Past, Present & Future
by Slavka13748
Summary: A series of short one-shots centering around Vossler and Ashe. Will be spoilers and some slight Vossler/Ashe pairing. Current: Deception.
1. Decisions

_Like the description says, this will be a series of one-shots based around Vossler and Ashe, set at various points before, after and during the game. As such, there will be spoilers. To avoid confusion, I put the year in which the piece is set at the top – for those who don't know, the game takes place in 706 Old Valendian (OV)._

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Decisions

**696 OV, 3 days before Ashe's 9th birthday**

King Raminas was at his wits' end.

His daughter was not yet even nine years of age, but he could not ignore the whispers of war, fleeting though they may be. She was his only child, his sole heir – a prime target for any would-be invader. Not that she would be able to comprehend that, of course.

This lack of understanding only made things harder. How was he to convince Ashe, still so young and ignorant of the harsher side of life, that it was imperative she accept the presence of a hitherto unknown person in every aspect of her life?

And so it was that he had summoned his most favoured knight captains before him. Surely, she would accept one of them – it was just a matter of finding the right one.

To the far left stood Rishal. A bangaa, he was a fine warrior and a finer strategist. One Raminas could not afford to lose. Not that he would have been right for Ashe anyway; he had a notoriously sharp tongue. Suppose the young princess would hear one of his more 'colourful' rants… Not Rishal then.

Next up was Lora, a viera of such great age she had served not only Raminas but also his father before him. She was a veritable fountain of wisdom, both on and off the battlefield, though many found her cold demeanour off-putting. His daughter was almost the complete opposite – the two would merely clash.

Arslan stood slightly behind the others; perhaps he knew he would not be selected. The man was not wrong – after giving it some more thought, the King had already decided Arslan would not be the one. He was loyal to the core, there was no denying that, but he was not the most genial of fellows. Hardly the type of man Raminas was willing to expose the young princess to.

That left but two men: Basch fon Ronsenburg and Vossler Azelas. With the rumours of war on the horizon, it would not do to lose either of them, but Ashe must be protected. Raminas sighed in exasperation, closing his eyes for a moment.

The captains shifted nervously as they waited for their liege to speak. None of them knew why they had been summoned, and matters had only been made worse when the king had said he had an important decision to make. Were they to go to war? An uneasy silence filled the air as Raminas opened his eyes once more.

"Step forward, Captain Azelas." The king's echoed through the silence of the throne room. "You are to have the honour of serving as Princess Ashelia's bodyguard during these troubled times. The rest of you are dismissed – return to your stations."

An audible wave of relief passed over the assembled soldiers as they turned to leave the chamber, with only Basch stopping briefly to clap his friend on the shoulder. As instructed, Vossler stepped forward, kneeling before the king. "That I be considered worthy."

Unbeknownst to the knight before him, King Raminas smiled. He had made the right decision, he was sure of it.

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"_**Decide promptly, but never give your reasons. Your decisions may be right, but your reasons are sure to be wrong."**_

_**Lord Mansfield**_


	2. Nightmares

_Heh, I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this. Enjoy, I guess..._

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**Nightmares**

**704 OV, Ashe's wedding day, after the ceremony**

"Vossler!" Ashe called to him as she ran down the hallway. "You have to protect me!"

"What's wrong, my lady?" He knew he should be concerned for her safety, but something seemed... off. He had seen Ashe truly scared, and this was not it. Mayhap she was jesting with him, as she had done so often in the past. Not that this was exactly the time or the place to be doing it.

"It's the people," the lady in question laughed, gasping for air as she spoke. "They're crazy!"

Vossler frowned as he tried to make sense of the situation before him. As he pondered, another man rounded the same corner Ashe had previously bolted around.

"Ashe..." Prince Rasler's tone was suspicious. "Who is this?" Suddenly realising how their reunion must look to her new husband, the princess hastily pulled away.

"Don't worry, Rasler. He's just my bodyguard, and my _friend_." At this, Rasler smiled.

"Your bodyguard? Ah, maybe he can defend us from the populace – I appreciate their support, but I fear they may be a little... over-enthusiastic in their approval of our match."

The day had been one of many ceremonies and traditions, and, as the sun set over the sand dunes of the Westersand, only one more remained. Whilst the newly-wedded couple admired the vibrant display of the fading desert sun, a young squire gave a message to the knight standing watch.

"My Lord, my Lady." The next words almost choked him, though he knew not why. "The bedchamber has been prepared. King Raminas suggests that, as it has been a long day for you, that you turn in shortly."

Oblivious to his slightly strangled tone, Ashe turned from the vista, bowing her head slightly in agreement. Rasler descended from the tower before her, as she stopped briefly to kiss her bodyguard lightly on the cheek as a means of saying goodnight.

By some cruel twist of fate, the times had decreed that, as a royal guardian, Vossler must sleep in the room next to the marital chamber. The Archadian forces marched ever closer to Rabanastre, and, should they attack, it would not do to have all military personnel reside in the barracks, far away from the people they were supposed to protect.

So it was that he heard every moan and breathy murmur of names, unrelenting until the sun rose early next morning. Vossler got no sleep that night. When Ashe commented on his tiredness and appearance, he simply told her he'd been having nightmares.

"_**Those with the greatest awareness have the greatest nightmares."**_

**Mahatma Gandhi**


	3. Wounds

_Well... I was actually going to upload a different chapter, but the site wasn't having it. So I guess you'll just have to see if this one's any good!_

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**Wounds**

**705 OV, 8 months after the fall of Dalmasca**

Her scream sounded for just a second, before being carried away on the raging winds of the sandstorm. The Urstrix Ashe was duelling screeched in triumph as it advanced, bearing down upon the defenceless princess.

In his mind, Vossler heard everything. The sound of the monstrous bird's talons tearing her skin. The dull thud as she hit the ground, eyes screwed up in pain. The low groan as she struggled to move before the creature struck again.

He was at her side in a heartbeat, the other men who were training with him forgotten. As he ran, he silently cursed himself for putting her in such danger – he should never have agreed to teach her the way of the blade.

The Urstrix turned in pursuit, only to meet its well-deserved end by his blade. As the beast fell to its knees, so too did Vossler, fumbling in his pouch for potions as he did so.

"Ashe!" he called, all false pretences forgotten. Her breathing was ragged and she struggled to move, but she was, at least, conscious.

Her eyes were still shut from the shock of being hit, but she felt him lift her head from the dusty ground and move her into a more upright position. When she did finally open them, she was only mildly surprised to see him leaning over her, eyes filled with worry.

"Please, Vossler, I'm... I'm fine." The lie could not have been more obvious if she tried. The strain in her voice made sure of that. Vossler had seen such shows of bravado many times amongst the men, though he suspected Ashe did it not to show off her strength, but rather to hide her perceived weakness.

To avoid worsening the situation, he did not say anything in response, but merely set to work cleaning the wound with a potion-soaked cloth. She winced at the slight sting of pain, glancing down at her chest to better see the wound. She immediately wished she hadn't.

Three long, bloody gashes ran horizontally across her body, small pieces of rent flesh hanging off them. The sight alone was enough to make her feel quite ill. Instinctively, she reached out and grabbed his hand, as she had done ever since she was small.

"Ashe?" He stopped his work for a time, pausing to look at her as she looked at him. Their breath mingled together and, for the briefest of moments, they were in a world all their own.

The harsh cries of the other Resistance members broke the peace. Through their typical carelessness (a flaw Vossler was desperately trying to iron out), the group had somehow managed to anger a nearby Gnoma Entite, and Vossler smelt Mist on the air as powerful magicks were thrown their way.

With no time to finish his healing, he hurriedly picked up his charge and ran for cover with the rest of the men. The next training session, he decided, would be in the Estersand for sure.

"_**In every nation there are wounds to heal. In every heart there is the power to do it."**_

**Marianne Williamson**


	4. Respect

_I've had the idea for this floating around in my head for a while. Enjoy! (This was the file I'd originally tried to upload the other day.)_

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**Respect**

**703 OV, one week after Ashe's sixteenth birthday**

It was a warm day in Dalmasca; hot, but not unpleasantly so. People in the streets busied themselves with everyday errands, travellers and merchants flooding the three gates into the Royal City. The Muthru Bazaar bustled with activity, the various vendors crying their wares to all who would listen.

But, of course, Ashe saw none of this. She was sat in one of the many open gardens of the palace, far from the general populace, with only her guardian for company. Things had always been this way – King Raminas had long attempted to shield his only child from the harshness of reality. Even before the rumours of war.

To the casual observer, the princess seemed somewhat peaceful as she absent-mindedly played with the fountain, despite the look of absolute boredom on her face. However, to Vossler, who had been in Ashe's company for over seven years, it was quite clear the girl was restless.

Eventually, it was him who broke the uneasy silence between them. "What troubles you, my lady?"

"That troubles me, Vossler," the lady replied, rising from her perch on the fountain. Seeing his quizzical expression, she elaborated. "You, calling me 'my lady'. You've been doing it for the best part of a week."

Vossler replies almost automatically, a sure sign to Ashe that he does not mean what he says. "I am only showing the proper respect, my lady."

At this, the princess rolled her eyes. He was so caught up in formalities these days. Whatever happened to the times when the pair could talk normally, like real friends? Well, Ashe was sick of the formalities.

"Vossler. Sit."

"My lady?"

"Sit!" He obeyed, and Ashe flopped down next to him. "What happened? I still call you Vossler. Why can you no longer call me Ashe." She paused for a moment, head leaned back against the cool stone of the fountain. "It's me turning sixteen, isn't it? Does it elevate to some sort of goddess-hood?"

"Nay, my lady. Merely to adulthood," the knight beside her replied, in an equally exasperated tone. As Ashe's role as princess tired her, so too did his role of loyal servant (but nothing more) tire him.

"Very well," she answered. "I shall accept we may no longer be able to speak as friends in public. We each have roles to play, and we must play them in the public eye. But, in private, you will address me as you always have. As a friend. That, to me, is far more respectful than a false title."

"Of course, my la- Ashe."

Ashe could not help but smile as he corrected himself. As she did so, Vossler relaxed. Perhaps things would not be so different after all.

"_**Respect is love in plain clothes."**_

**Frankie Byrne**


	5. Comrades

_I was pushed for time recently, so this may be a little unpolished. The only reason it's here is because I got so reviews, so thanks to fluidstatic! Even if I haven't figured out how to reply properly to reviews yet, heh._

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**Comrades**

**706 OV, 2 weeks after Ashe's 'kidnapping'**

Vossler did not trust the 'comrades' that now fought at Lady Ashe's side. Four of the five other people who stood at her side hardly knew her - what did they hope to gain? If only he could figure that out.

As the party descended upon the Tomb of Raithwall, he took it upon himself to assess his companions. He trusted Ashe with his life, but he knew that she herself was far too trusting. A disposition that could prove to be fatal, considering the men and women she was travelling with.

The street urchin, Vaan, posed little threat, or so Vossler had determined. The boy was not a warrior, that much was certain, and his current manner was anything to go by, not that bright either. Vossler doubted he had the mental capacity to deceive even the most trusting of individuals.

Then again, it was often those who seemed simplistic who proved the most dangerous. Vossler also noted that he seemed to look up to the sky pirate as a hero - while the boy may not be a genius, the man he admired was quite capable of manipulating him into doing his bidding. Keep a tab on him then.

Vaan's friend, a dancer by the name of Penelo, was undoubtedly the least threatening of the entire group. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and it was quite apparent that the girl wouldn't turn on her comrades. Indeed, it seemed unlikely she would turn on anyone; she didn't even actively participate in the various skirmishes they had encountered en route, preferring to hang back and provide support and healing.

However, if Vaan turned, she too could prove a valuable asset to his and Ashe's enemies. She followed the street rat blindly, regardless of his misdeeds. Vossler still doubted Vaan would become an issue, but he made a mental note to prepare a strategy to take out the pair of them should the possibility become reality.

With the two Dalmascans out of the way, it was time to consider the three others travelling with them. This trio proved somewhat more dangerous - whilst Vaan and Penelo's motives were fairly apparent, those of Basch, Fran and Balthier were far more difficult to ascertain.

Basch... Vossler wanted to trust Basch. The man was a former Knight of the Order, and had been one of his few friends for many years among the ranks. But that all changed at Nalbina. He no longer knew if he could trust him - the man who had congratulated him on his promotion to Ashe's bodyguard and the man who stood before him now were two very different people.

Vossler's was a position in which he had to see enemies at every turn. Had it been just his own safety at risk, maybe he would have believed Basch's claim that he did not kill the King. But with Ashe's well-being in peril, he could not bring himself to do it. Besides, Basch's explanation of an twin brother working for the Empire just seemed a little too convenient... If anything, it made him less trustworthy. If Vayne was truly capable of such trickery, it was increasingly likely that this too was just a clever ruse.

Which brought him to the sky pirates. He had always regarded their kind with a certain distaste, having never believed that one was entitled to take without giving. The very sight of them defiling Raithwall's sacred resting place sickened him more than anything he had seen on the battlefield.

Fran, on her own, was not a problem. He had learned much of their kind from Lora during his time in the Order, and had yet to meet a deceitful viera. She was like to be a danger should it come to a fight, however; he had seen how masterfully she wielded both a bow and a sword, and was not eager to be on the receiving end of one her Berserk-fuelled onslaughts.

Again, the real problem with the viera was not herself, but the one she was loyal to. The pirate. There was a real bond between them, far greater than that of mere comrades, for certain. It was as strong, if not stronger than that which he and Ashe shared, and the thought of that bond coming into play against him worried him a little. One would die for the other, which would eliminating them problematic, to say the least.

Finally, Vossler's eyes came to rest on Balthier, a man he had quickly come to resent. The pirate had immediately struck him as a fickle ally at best, and the knight still didn't know quite what it was he hoped to achieve by accompanying the princess. To make matters worse, Balthier was clearly Archadian, and gentry at that. There were few people who could twist words and exploit people quite so elegantly as the nobles of Archades.

Vossler was sure the man had an ulterior motive, but perhaps Vossler too had his own reasons for wanting the sky pirate out of his life. That Ashe had slipped away with the rogue as he strived to grant her wishes infuriated him, and something about the way Balthier would so casually talk with her drove him to insanity. That scum of the skies had no right to even be in her presence, let alone make such comments!

A sudden squawk from Vaan broke his train of thought, and Vossler rushed forward to defend his queen from a fresh swarm of Seekers. As he crushed one beneath his blade, he couldn't help thinking how ironic it was that he had been debating his team-mates' trustworthiness, even as the Imperial 8th Fleet made its way to the Tomb.


	6. Alone

_Spoilers abound in this chapter! Thanks again to all the reviewers (all two of you), and I hope you like this next chapter. _

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**Alone**

**707 OV, 1 day after the signing of treaties between the free nations**

Three weeks it has been since Ashe returned from the sky continent of Lemures. Three days it has been since she has had time to think her own thoughts.

The last few months had been chaos. So consumed had she been in anger, hatred and desire for vengeance. So busy had she been with matters of state and other such importance. Ashe had had no time to consider what had happened, let alone time for herself.

When released from such obligations, Ashe had time to reflect on what had been. Her first thoughts were of Rasler; how could they not be? Though their time together was short, she had never doubted that she cared for the man. Why else would she follow his image so blindly, though she knew it was not he?

She thought also on her father. Raminas had been a good man and a good king, and, despite her teenage rage toward him at times, she had loved him dearly. And yet it was near on three years since his death, and she had never been able to mourn him properly. The Imperials had come so soon after, and she had found herself too caught up in the conflict to dwell on those dead and gone.

For two days she had thought on such things, amongst others. However, it was only when she came to sign the peace accords between Rozarria, Dalmasca and Archadia that she thought on him.

Vossler. He who had turned against her, sold to the Empire. Or had he? He had proposed she treaty with the Archadians, her kingdom for the stone. As she put ink to paper, she could not help but wonder: was what she was doing now so different?

Was she truly justified in declaring him a traitor? He had given in to the pressures of war - gone to the enemy to find a end to the fighting. People do stupid things under pressure, she knew. She had done.

At the time, she thought little of her deed, so caught up had she been with feelings of betrayal and anger. Though she had perhaps shown a little remorse as she looked back upon his broken body, she had dismissed as temporary weakness for the man who had been part of her life for ten years.

She had killed him for a moment's weakness. He, who had been by her side for more than half her life. And she had thought nothing of it. Was she truly any better than the Emperor that had struck down his own family to claim the throne?

Now, with no work to be done or revenge to claim, she realised how alone she was. She could not consort with the friends she had journeyed with. The palace staff and the nobles that roamed its grounds treated her as they had always done when she was a princess. Then, she had but one friend. That one friend was no more.

Out on her personal terrace, Ashe gazed out across the desert surrounding Rabanastre. On the western horizon, she espied the rigs that made up the Ogir-Yensa Sandsea, and could not help but remember her relief as she heard him come up behind her and her party.

She knew it would never come to pass, but a small part of her retained the childish hope that he would come back for her, as he did aboard the Leviathan.

Ashe was not one to show weakness. But, as she stood on her balcony, desert wind blowing lightly in her face, she could not help but shed a single tear. "Come back," she whispered.

If only he could.

"_**It is terrible to be alone, and it is terrible to be love, but one is cheaper than the other."**_

**Anonymous**


	7. Moment

_This is written purely off the top of my head, so forgive me if it seems a little rough. Once, again, thanks to all those who took the time to review._

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**Moment**

**706 OV, 11 days after Ashe's kidnapping**

Having obtained Eskir Berries from a rogue Urutan-Yensa, the party was ready to face the Tomb's fabled guardian. However, they were not foolish enough to do so rashly – preparation was key, so the night had been set aside for rest and recovery.

This was all well and good, but Vossler could not help but see a certain similarity between the rogue Urutan and himself. Both of them had gone up against an undefeatable foe. Both had gone to the enemy for aid. The question was, would Vossler's queen forsake him, as the Urutan Queen had condemned her underling?

No. Ashe was not so cruel. Still...

Vossler shook his head, clearing his mind of doubt. He was doing what was best. Just as the Urutan could not have hoped to defeat the Eater alone, they too stood no chance against the Empire. Two years they had fought and trained, and all for naught. The Resistance was but an insect to Vayne – should he will it, they would be crushed in an instant. One needs only look at what happened on the night of the fête.

By the time the small group of warriors reached the Valley of the Dead, the sun was already disappearing behind the towering Tomb of Raithwall. The two Dalmascans youths busied themselves with building a camp-fire as the desert air took on a sudden chill, and the sky pirates had decided among themselves that the party would have an early night.

Shielding their prone bodies from the wind with thick blankets procured in Bhujerba, six people huddled around the somewhat pitiful fire. Having lost her blanket along with her pack and most her belongings to a particularly vicious Urutan-Yensa some time ago, Ashe merely wrapped herself in her arms to stay warm, once again demonstrating the false bravado Vossler had come to associate with her when she was in company.

Without a word, he tossed his own covering to the princess, ignoring the looks the others gave him as he took himself off to take first watch. As her companions returned to their business (after a snide remark from Balthier, of course), Ashe couldn't help but look after him, pulling the cloth tighter round her as she did so.

Upon seeing him shiver, however involuntarily, she picked herself up just as silently and followed him to the small cliff, glaring at Vaan as he dared to open his mouth. She cared not for what her 'friends' would think when the blond fool inevitably told his tale the next morning.

She heard him shift in his armour as she approached, and took it as a cue to sit down next to him, pulling the blanket he had given her around the pair of them. They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

The blanket's effects were negligible, Vossler found, to the body heat of the woman pressed against him. He watched her face as she gazed into the distance, doubtlessly thinking of how she could exact revenge on the Empire, and reclaim her throne. For the last two years, she had thought of little else.

Seeing this, he burned with guilt over what he had done. She would never accept it. But, he lamented, what's done is done. Nothing could be changed now. At least Dalmasca stood a chance, his way.

She had to know, though. That much she deserved. Breaking the peace between them, Vossler spoke.

"Ashe, I..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say. Only then, in that most awkward of moments, did he realise he had his arm around her, and hers was draped around him. She saved him the trouble of finding a way of continuing.

"Vossler... Just let me have this moment. Please."

He acquiesced without a word, and the couple continued to sit as they had done. Vossler hardly noticed when she finally fell asleep, her head resting on his shoulder.

"_**It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know it has begun."**_

**Henry Wadsworth Longfellow**


	8. Confessions

_I thought I'd try something a little different this time... Whether it works or not is up to you. Thanks to the reviewers, as always._

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**Confessions**

**707 OV, 7 days after the signing of treaties between the free nations**

Dear Vossler,

I know this is stupid. I know you'll never read this. I know you're dead. It doesn't matter. This had to be said. Penelo – you remember Penelo? You always said she was the most trustworthy. She said I needed closure. So that's what this is. Closure.

I... don't know what to say. What do you say to someone you killed? The worst thing is, you were right. About the Empire, I mean. Brute force and destruction wouldn't have gotten us anywhere. I realise that now. But I'm not forgiving you. Not completely.

You could have at least told me.

But I'm done passing judgement. What's past is past. No one can undo what they've done. No matter how much they want to.

I just can't help thinking... If things would have been different if I'd realised sooner. We were never going to defeat the Empire with strength alone. Maybe if we hadn't spent two years trying and failing... Maybe if we'd looked for another way... Maybe you wouldn't have gone to them.

But that's not even the point. The point is, you're gone. And I miss you.

I know I shouldn't. After all, I was the one who killed you. But I do. You were my only friend, Vossler. No... Surely you were more than that.

You were the only one who I knew would always be there for me. You meant more to me than my father, my husband... You were more important than either of them. Because I could trust you.

I hardly even knew Rasler. And my father... He always just did what he thought was best for Dalmasca. You were different. Ever since I was small, I knew you'd never do anything to hurt me. Until _SHIVA._

Even then, I don't think it was intentional. You were just trying to make me happy, by getting my throne back. It's just... It wasn't the throne that was important.

It wasn't even power. I'll forgive you for thinking that, though. I thought so, too, until recently. Now I have the throne. I have power. And I'm still not happy.

I'm alone. I have friends, but society decrees that I can't talk to them. The people I can talk to... Well, you remember them, don't you? They haven't changed a bit.

Now I understand why Father was so distraught when Mother died. It's lonely at the top. Maybe that's why he devoted his life to Dalmasca. But I'm not him. I can't do that.

I'm... I'm not strong enough. There, I said it.

I need someone I can trust, Vossler. I need you. But I'm not going to get you, am I?

Do you remember the promise you made, when we made it to Bhujerba? You said you'd always come back for me. You said you'd always protect me. And I believed you.

Some small part of me doesn't want to find your body. Some small part of me won't believe you're dead. Some small part of me says it would take more than that to kill you. Some small part of me still believes in that promise. And I keep listening to it.

Please... If you're out there... Come back for me. You always were a man of your word.

Ashe


	9. Fashion

_I'm back again, and I think I've pretty much worked out a schedule – from now on I should be updating on Thursdays and Sundays. And to bluebearsg: I'm still on the fence about making it an AU, so I figure I'll keep it fairly canon until I run out of ideas. Thanks for reviewing, as always._

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**Fashion**

**704 OV, 3 months after the fall of Dalmasca**

Vossler sat alone in a corner of the room, drawing a whetstone along the blade of his sword. In reality, the weapon was more than sharp enough, but the task took his mind off other, more worrying things. The abandoned house in Lowtown was perhaps the last safe haven in Dalmasca – why then, had Ashe left it so soon?

With each scrape of the stone, he berated himself for leaving her alone. Though he knew the building was quite secure, he could not help but worry that the Imperials had somehow found her, that they had... No. It was impossible. Marquis Ondore had assured them of that. For all the Empire knew, the princess of Dalmasca was dead.

At just that moment, the princess in question slipped through the door, and, upon seeing Vossler's grim visage, launched straight into a speech that had quite obviously been prepared for just such an instance.

"Vossler, I know you said not to leave the house, but I needed to get some equipment – how do you expect me to aid the Resistance in this?" She gestured at the gown she was still wearing. Not exactly subtle, but it was all she had.

Vossler set down the whetstone. In truth, he did not expect her to aid the Resistance at all. But he should have known she'd want to.

"Very well. Let us see exactly what was worth you risking your life."

Ashe rolled her eyes as she emptied the contents of the bag onto the table. Honestly, he could be so over-dramatic at times. It wasn't as if she'd gone knocking at the gates of Archades; she hadn't even left Lowtown, and the residents of the district weren't exactly renowned for their love of the Empire.

To his military mind, the clothing Ashe had selected was far too complex for Vossler's liking. The gilt leg armour, the bejewelled collar, and... how did that shirt even work? Surely something simpler would have helped her blend in with the crowds of Rabanastre, if she truly did want to help the Resistance.

Seeing his expression, she explained. "The storekeeper said it was the latest fashion. I'll fit right in with the people." If anything, he looked more confused, as he considered what he could only think was a bright pink belt. "Oh, for the gods' sake, it's just a skirt, Vossler. Don't act like you've never seen one before. Give it here, I'm going to change."

She did so, and remarkably quickly. One can only assume that, having worn the same dress for the last three months, she was glad to be rid of the thing. Before Vossler could open his mouth to (inevitably) protest, Ashe interjected with her own opinion. She knew he'd never disagree with her outright.

"I like it." She said simply, leaving a momentarily stunned Vossler to stare blankly for a time.

Well... She definitely didn't look like a princess any more. He couldn't decide whether the outfit was either the perfect disguise or completely inappropriate. One thing was for certain, though – it would be utterly useless for her to attempt to walk the streets unseen. Every man within a ten metre radius would undoubtedly be drawn to the shockingly short pink 'skirt'.

Sensing what was running through his mind, Ashe couldn't stop herself.

"You don't think it's too... revealing, do you?"

Having suddenly realised just where he'd been looking, Vossler's face reddened considerably. Ashe had to hold back a smile as he clumsily tried to explain. She didn't smile. Not any more.


	10. Dance

_I got the idea for this one from a piece of fanart. Once again, thanks to anyone who reviewed, and a special thank you to Domyouji for favouriting!_

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**Dance**

**703 OV, 2 weeks after Ashe's sixteenth birthday**

War was coming. Everyone knew it – the people in the streets, the soldiers in the barracks... Even Ashe, who had been shielded from such things all her life, had begun to pick up on it. But Raminas would not let that get in the way of his daughter's birthday celebrations. It would do the nation good to maintain some sense of normality.

In truth, the fête that night was more to boost morale than it was to celebrate the princess's coming of age. Perhaps, with a little food and a little music, he could quell the fears of the common man, if only for a while.

The people had rejoiced as he made the announcement that this year's celebrations were open to all. It had been a difficult decision to make: traditionally it was an exclusive affair, with only Dalmasca's (and occasionally Nabradia's) elite ever in attendance. But Raminas needed the support of the people in the years to come, and this was the easiest way to gain it.

He never regretted his decisions. Life was too short to live it in regret. But he had started to see that this may not have been one of his more well-thought-out plans. His daughter had disappeared to gods-know-where, and the throngs of common-folk were not making it easy to find her.

Not that she wanted to be found. Ashe had slipped away from her father at the first possible opportunity. Ever since she'd turned sixteen, all he'd ever talk about was 'matters of state' and her 'royal duty'. Well, if that was going to be her life from now on, she was entitled to a little fun before the night was out.

It only took around ten minutes or so of wading through the revelling crowds before she espied him. Vossler was standing in a corner with some of the other captains, talking in serious tones about battle tactics and manoeuvres. She mentally shook her head as she strode towards the group; he really never did loosen up, did he? She was going to change that.

"Want to dance?"

She smiled to herself as all five knights turned and uttered "My Lady?" in unison.

"Vossler. Do you want to dance?"

He tried to turn down her offer respectfully, just like she knew he would. Time to use the ace up her sleeve – he couldn't refuse a direct order.

"Vossler, I order you to dance with me."

Still trying to avoid his fate, the captain turned to his friends. Unfortunately for him, it seemed it wasn't just the princess who was in the mood for some fun. Even Lora, the viera, had a tell-tale glimmer of mirth in her eyes.

As he was dragged to the dance floor, Vossler saw Rishal burst out into his customary guffaw as soon as he and Ashe were out of earshot. Some friend.

The masses parted ways to let the princess through. Some even left the floor altogether to give them room. All the worse for her partner, who couldn't dance at the best of times, let alone with hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at him.

"Just follow my lead," she whispered, as the music started up. He did so, and the small gathering of spectators soon lost interest and continued on their way. Ashe had deliberately chosen a somewhat dull song to garner just such a response.

For the duration of that one song, she forgot about her duties. She forgot about who she was, and where she was. She was just a woman, dancing with a man. And enjoying herself.

Vossler was more aware of the world around him, forcing himself to keep a blank face as he tried to keep up with his partner. He could not be seen to be enjoying this. He was a Knight of Dalmasca – it would not be proper.

However, his mask was not perfect. Ashe saw the change in his eyes, and in the moment knew she had succeeded.

But she was not the only one who saw.

Across the terrace, King Raminas had finally located his daughter, dancing with the soldier he had appointed as her bodyguard all those years ago. It was as he feared.

They had grown too close.


	11. Dilemma

_Aw, no reviews? :( _

_Oh well, I'm not going to stop writing – keep expected updates every Thursday and Sunday!_

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**Dilemma**

**706 OV, 2 days after the assault on the palace**

She was gone.

He had known it was a poor decision to let her accompany him and the men, but... Never did he expect such dire consequences. The whole mission had been a disaster – more than half the warriors he had so painstakingly gathered over the past two years had been killed outright by the _IFRIT_ or lost in the waterway. As had she.

Matters were only made worse when Marquis Ondore had informed him the Empire had her in its clutches. He could do nothing about a missing woman, but a captured one... It was all he could do to stop himself storming the _LEVIATHAN _there and then.

Thoughts of the men stopped him, though just barely. He knew he would not survive such a reckless assault on the Imperial warship, and the Resistance was fragile as it was – he could not leave them without a leader. Still...

He could not just leave her.

The internal conflict pestered him always, never relenting. In every moment of weakness (or was it strength?) he took up his sword, ready to strike, only to set it down once more as the more rational part of his mind considered the inevitable results of such actions.

The men and women who had not perished, become lost or fled after the events at the palace had begun to notice the restlessness of their leader, and it unsettled them yet further. Here was a man who had proved to be utterly unshakable for the last two years – what terrible thing had arisen, to unnerve him so? None, save Balzac, knew of 'Amalia's' true identity.

Tensions were high among the Resistance members, even more so when it had emerged that there was a traitor in their ranks. There was no other way Vayne could have known. The few that remained were becoming more and more distrustful of one another. The King-Slayer couldn't have arrived at a worse time.

"Do you not think 'Amalia' worth saving?"

With that one statement, something snapped within him. Though he spoke as logic dictated, for fear the men would pick up on the exact nature of the circumstances, privately his mind was made up. As both the traitor and the random urchin left, he was already formulating plans to get aboard the _LEVIATHAN_.

'Amalia' would not be imprisoned much longer.


	12. Smile

_Now, I'm aware I don't normally update on Fridays, but today is World Smile Day (seriously), so I thought I'd do something based on that theme. Although it's really more of a Christmas-type story than a smiling-type story... Ah well, can't win 'em all._

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**Smile**

**697 OV, New Year's Day**

"Happy New Year!"

Vossler could hear the young Ashe's voice before he even reached the room. The girl really was too excitable. But who could blame her, on New Year's Day?

As he opened the door, Ashe ran at him, barging past her nanny as she did so. The ageing woman already looked tired, although it was still early morning. Vossler suspected her young ward had kept her awake most of the night, though it did not seem to have any adverse effect on the princess.

"What are you doing here, Vossler? Daddy said everyone had gone home for New Year's."

It was true that most of the palace staff took their leave for the holiday. Had he any family left to return to, Vossler would have done the same. Since the plague had taken them, he had devoted his life to the Order, trying to fill the void they had left. It had never worked.

"Do you have a resolution yet?"

The sound of Ashe's voice snapped him out of his reverie. Gods bless her short attention span - he could not even begin to imagine how he would explain his reasons for remaining at the palace. After all, the day was a happy occasion for the princess, and it would not do to mar it with such a depressing tale.

"Well, do you?"

Only then did he realise she was addressing him directly, eyes suddenly narrowed at his apparent lack of attention. He searched for an answer, but could only reply with a rather pathetic "I... do not."

"Me neither. Nanny Bennett says I should think of a good one, but I can't. In fact..."

She continued babbling, not even realising how much she was repeating herself. Vossler put that down to the lack of sleep and the hyperactive mood the day had put her in. He was only glad he had not been subjected to such enthusiasm for quite as much time as the long-suffering Nanny Bennett had.

The clock hanging on the wall of the room chimed 8, and Ashe stopped mid-sentence, suddenly aware of something else. Her father would be visiting about now, Vossler thought, and bringing with him...

"Presents!"

Ashe screamed for what must have the hundredth time that day. Raminas swept her into his arms, laughing as him did so. He had indeed brought presents, and a grand amount - more than what was expected, even for the only child of a king.

Vossler watched her unwrap each extravagant gift from a distance. He was not yet comfortable enough with the young princess and her father to even stand closer to them. If he was being honest, he didn't think he'd ever be that comfortable with his King.

Once Raminas had left, most likely to attend to the speech he made each new year, Ashe turned to him.

"Did you get me anything, Vossler?"

Though her nanny immediately chastised her for being so selfish and rude, Vossler had actually bought her something. Nothing compared to the gifts she'd already received, of course, but he handed it over anyway. She beamed at him, then stopped without warning, as if she'd had an epiphany.

"You never smile!"

She pointed at him accusingly, squinting at him for the second time that day. It was not something he could help - he was a soldier, he had been trained to wear that cold mask at all times - but, he wondered, why was it only now that she noticed?

Still pointing at him (while Nanny Bennett reminded her gently that it was rude to point), Ashe once again changed the subject without warning.

"I've decided on my resolution now: I'm going to make you smile! Every day! Starting now!"

Her old chaperone gave Vossler a sympathetic glance, before busying herself with the debris Ashe had left behind from unwrapping, leaving him alone to deal with the overly energetic girl. Silently, he made a resolution of his own.


	13. Respite

_Thanks for reviewing, fluidstatic! Though, about the Raminas thing, it wasn't that he disapproved, so much, more that he was worried for Ashe. 'Cause he knew there was war, and Vossler might get killed. With maybe a little bit of worry for her public image as well. Eh, maybe I didn't get it across all that well._

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**Respite**

**706 OV, 1 day after arriving at Raithwall's Tomb**

Ashe braced herself as the Esper swung it's huge staff at her once again, closing her eyes against the anticipated pain. Upon hearing a clang of metal on metal, she opened them, and, as per usual, saw him standing in front of her, taking the heavy blow like it was nothing. Muttering her thanks even as he ran to strike the creature before it recovered, she sent a Cure spell his way, hoping it would be enough to hold his wounds.

At the other side of the small arena, Penelo yelped as the staff was brought towards her, jumping back as its wielder toppled backwards, its head smacking the exact spot she had been standing in. As the Mist surrounding the combatants surged, the Esper let out a low bellow, before surrendering to defeat.

As the crystal containing its power fell to the ground, the party all but collapsed with exhaustion. It had been a long fight, and Ashe suspected they'd only won due to the ready supply of Mist. A supply that was now gone. She sighed, knowing it would be a long wait before any of them accumulated enough to restore the group.

And the wait only looked to be getting worse. Deprived of his usual wit, Balthier had taken to bickering about the lack of tangible treasure in the tomb. His viera partner merely nodded as he complained like a child, too weary even to respond. Ashe too had no energy left to shut him up, and searched the chamber for other things to take her mind off the incessant sound of the pirate's voice.

She saw Vaan first, having taken upon himself to collect the orange crystal the Gigas had left behind. He prodded it curiously, only to squawk as it vanished before him. He scurried back to his friend, arms flailing, as Ashe rolled her eyes at the scene. She still didn't know why he'd bothered to come along.

Turning away once more (and trying to close her ears as Vaan's voice added to the already irritating cacophony Balthier was making), she saw Vossler sitting alone in a corner. He never did talk to the others. Only when she looked a little closer did she realise he was using the wall as a support.

The fool was hurt again. For all the lectures he gave her on asking for help rather than suffering in silence, he really was no different. If he was going to insist on taking every last hit for her, it was the least she could do to heal the wounds meant for herself, and doing so would be much easier if he just told her when he was hurt.

Shuffling over to where he sat, Ashe placed her hands on his chest, slipping them between the plates of his armour to reach the wound itself. Using the last of the Mist she had absorbed during the fight, she released a Regen spell, hoping it would act quickly enough to stop him passing out from blood loss.

He opened his eyes as the spell took effect, looking down at its caster. She looked at him as if to smile, but he remembered she had sworn not to until she had exacted just revenge on the Empire. He glanced away, once more stricken with guilt over the deal he had made.

She had no idea. But it was too late for her to know.


	14. Sleep

_The writer's block I suffered on this one, you won''t believe... And somehow, it still ended up longer than most chapters. The ending's naff, but... Anyway, thanks for reviewing, bluebearsg! Also, sorry about the late upload – the site was having 'technical trouble'._

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**Sleep**

**704 OV, 4 months after the fall of Dalmasca**

Finally. That was all Vossler could think as he walked through the door of the abandoned house in Lowtown. It had taken him four months, but he had finally managed to recruit some warriors to his and Ashe's cause.

They were a motley bunch – mostly vagrants from the streets, a few sell-swords. Nothing impressive. It would take a lot of effort to turn them into a force strong enough to even stand a chance against the might of the Empire. But it was a start.

And, he thought, though he was ashamed to be so selfish, it would let him get some rest. For the last four months, he had insisted he take up a night watch, for fear of Imperial attack. With few hours left in the day for sleep, he had been living in a state of permanent exhaustion. But no more.

Leaving Balzac, one of the more trustworthy individuals he had found dodging Imperial patrols on the streets of Rabanastre, to stand guard over the only entrance to the house, Vossler made his way to the sole bedroom of the dilapidated building. The other men and women he had amassed were content to sleep under blankets in the main living space, simply glad to have a roof over their heads and some protection from the cold.

Only when he passed through the doorway did he realise he was faced with a rather... unique problem. For all the space and protection the dwelling allowed, it seemed its previous owner had use for only one bed. And, though he longed to collapse into a soft mattress for once, that bed was already taken.

Ashe sat perched on the end of the bed, watching him as he immediately went to the old chair in the corner and settled himself down. She should have known he wouldn't even ask.

"I take it you've managed to gather up some recruits then?"

The question was redundant – she'd already heard their voices through the door. In truth, she'd only asked in a vain attempt to fill the silence between them.

"Aye, though I must admit I have some concerns over their general character. It would not be wise to put too much trust in them."

The conversation came to an awkward halt. Normally, she would have told him not to worry so much, but on this rare occasion she actually shared his concerns. She had been out in the real world long enough to know that not all men who professed to fight for a cause were quite so noble as the knights she had known.

Ashe shivered as the winter wind swept in from the Southgate. Though Dalmasca was hot enough during the day, at night the draughts were bitterly cold. Upon seeing this, Vossler recommended she get some sleep, and assured her he would do the same.

She was all too happy to oblige, drawing the warm sheets tight around her as she snuggled deeper into the mattress. But, as much as she wanted to drift off, sleep simply wouldn't come. She was distracted by something.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she gazed across the room to where that something was dozing in an wooden chair, all but rattling in his armour as he shivered. She assumed he'd left the heavy plate on as a guard against the cold, but if that was the case it was failing miserably.

"Go to sleep, Ashe."

The sudden sound of his voice made her jump, though she regained her composure almost instantaneously. She glanced over to him again, but his body retained all the external signs of sleep (despite the occasional shiver). This, she thought, was the only chance she was going to get.

"I can't, Vossler. Not until you promise me one thing."

One eye snapped open.

"Hmm?"

Bracing herself for the inevitable response, she replied:

"That _you'll_ go to sleep in a bed for once."

Both eyes open now, Vossler responded exactly as Ashe had predicted.

"My Lady, I cannot. It would not be right to expect you to spend the night in this thing."

He gestured at the chair he was sitting on. She sighed – how she hated these knights and their propriety. Particularly when it was false.

"I wasn't suggesting that. I was planning to stay in the bed too."

The look of horror on his face merely grew, and his honourable excuses were reduced to honourable nonsense. Rather than try and react to this, Ashe simply continued as if he hadn't said a word.

"Well, it's made for two, isn't it?"

Utterly defeated and both unable and unwilling to argue much longer, Vossler relented. He knew it was the only way either of them would get any rest that night. Resigned to his fate, he dumped his armour on the chair, and reluctantly climbed into the bed.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He turned to see her looking at him, her mouth performing the strange twitch that passed for a smile these days. He could not help but return the gesture, equally as awkward – nothing could really compare to the comfort of a warm bed, after months of making do with catnaps in chairs.

For all the blanket's warmth, Ashe was still cold. She could've sworn it had never been this bitter during winter at the palace. Shuffling closer to the man beside her, she sensed him tense momentarily, before relaxing again. Assuming that all propriety had, at this point, been thrown out the window, she shuffled closer still, closing the gap between them.

Vossler felt her press gently against him, but for once he did not care. For all anyone but he knew, she was just 'Amalia'.


	15. Promise

_I have had such a long day today, I didn't feel like writing at all. But then I read bluebearsg's review, and I remembered that I'd promised you guys updates. So updates it is – thanks bluebearsg!_

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**Promise**

**704 OV, 30 minutes after the death of King Raminas**

Vossler's mind was racing almost as fast as his chocobo as he rode out of Nalbina Fortress and towards Rabanastre. Basch, a traitor? It could not be. Yet the boy (Reks was his name, he dimly recalled) had been quite clear in his description of the event. There could be no mistake about it – Basch had killed the King.

Pushing such thoughts to the back of his mind, he spurred his steed on. He had other more pressing issues to attend to. If the King was truly dead, then the Imperial Army would target Ashe next: he had to reach her before they did.

He ignored the bemused looks of the townsfolk peering through their windows as he streaked through the streets, urging the yellow bird on even as is squawked in protest. Skidding to a halt outside the palace gates, he proceeded on foot, one hand forever on the hilt of his sword.

All was quiet in the marble corridors of the palace. Too quiet. Even at this hour, there would usually have been some manner of servant attending to some menial task. But now there was naught but the echoes of Vossler's armoured feet, as he made his way to the princess's chambers.

He heard them long before they approached, the tell-tale jostle of the soldiers' jog giving them away. He removed his sword from its sheath, holding it carefully in front of him as he neared the group. Time it right, he thought, and he could take them all out with one swing, before they had time to call for backup.

He swung. Three men fell to ground, but one broke away, yelling to his commander as he fled. He mentally scrapped his original escape plan – stealth would be of little use now. The only thing left to do was to find Ashe and make a run for it.

He charged down the final corridor, taking out the oncoming Imperials with broad sweeps of his blade. Though a few were clean kills, the majority were merely winded. But it was enough, buying him a few valuable seconds with each hit.

In her chambers, Ashe stirred, woken by the commotion outside her door. As she did so, Vossler tore in, distraught and covered in blood. Ever aware of the pack of soldiers at his back, he offered only the briefest of explanations to answer her questioning gaze.

"Captain Ronsenburg" - he could not bring himself to say Basch's name - "has turned traitor and slain the King. The Imperial Army now comes for you. Please, we must hurry."

Her outward appearance did not change, but Vossler saw the despair in her eyes. Had he been too short? A harsh cry from behind him reminded him that he had had little choice, and in that short moment Ashe had managed to steel herself for her evacuation.

She kept close behind him as he cleared a path, remarkably focused for one who had just lost their father. Not once did she flinch from the carnage her guardian wrought before her; if anything she seemed to draw strength from it, fuelled by the enactment of the revenge she had sought ever since Rasler had fallen.

He had to get Ashe to Bhujerba. This was the sole thought he repeated in his mind like a mantra, keeping him pressing forward to his goal. There was a number of military airships in the barracks – they just had to reach them without perishing at the hands of stray Imperials. Fortunately, the force deployed to Rabanastre had been small, and it seemed that few men remained.

Upon reaching the vessel, Vossler scrambled to the control panel. He knew little of airships, but he had enough knowledge to set the auto-pilot to Bhujerba and return to the hold as the craft took off. Ashe was sitting on one of the low benches, staring intently at a spot on the wall.

"Vossler..." she began, grief evident in her eyes as she turned to look at him. "How could he?"

How he would like to know the answer to that very question. Of all those within the Order, he had never expected Basch to turn. Vossler couldn't even meet her gaze as he settled himself opposite her.

After an awkward pause, she addressed him once more.

"Promise me one thing, Vossler. Never turn against me."

"I swear it."


	16. Rescue

_No reviews again? Aw..._

_Not that I'm that bothered this time – that last chapter definitely wasn't one of the better ones. Let's see if this one comes out any better._

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**Rescue**

**706 OV, 1 week after the assault on the palace**

_Clank. Clank. Clank._

The footfalls of the Imperial swordsmen outside the brig were starting to irritate Ashe. Had they not put her through enough torment already? Imprisoning her here, forcing her to face _him_... She burned with anger, shooting a fierce glare at any guard foolish enough to wander past the bars of her cell.

When she was sure no one was watching, she fingered the dagger hidden in her boot. Vossler had given it to her just before they initiated their attack on the palace. Before everything went wrong. He had told her to use it only if she found herself otherwise compromised – perhaps she could use it to cut through the door, or take out a passing guard for his key-card, or-

The sound of armoured feet broke her train of thought, and she shrunk back onto the metal bench. Even if she could somehow escape her cage, she'd never make it off the _LEVIATHAN_ alive. The only reason she still drew breath was because the Empire needed her, though she knew not why.

Resigning herself to being stuck in her current situation for some time, Ashe turned her thoughts to other things. The disaster at the palace stuck first in her mind: had the Resistance been utterly destroyed? Who had betrayed them to Vayne? Had Vossler survived the destruction?

This last thought stayed with her. Surely he had not perished at the palace. Men like Vossler didn't die in places like that. But if she knew Vossler, he'd be trying everything to find her. Had her uncle not told him where she was being held? Or worse, had he attempted a blind assault on the Imperial warship, and already been slain?

Shouts from the hall beyond the brig broke her thought process for the second time that day. Those metal-clad morons were really starting to irk her – if only she had the means to be rid of them once and for all! But alas, she did not, so merely sat on her bench, quietly fuming as the cacophony from the next grew more intense. Fitting, wasn't it? The princess, waiting to be rescued, like a proper damsel in distress. She hated feeling so powerless.

In that same room, Vossler delivered the final blow to a Judge, sending the elite soldier's sub-ordinates running. Wiping the semi-congealed blood from his blade, Vossler turned to see the blond street urchin that had somehow become embroiled in his matters waving a key-card around gleefully. With a sigh, he snatched the prize off the still-prancing boy, earning himself a snide remark from another of the tag-alongs, this one a sky pirate.

He did not care. There were more important things to attend to.

Back in her cell, Ashe heard the commotion outside die down. Thank the gods – she did not think she could stand such a noise much longer. And if the actual scenario had been as bloody as she'd envisioned, then all the better. She reached down for the dagger again, hoping to free herself whilst the guards were distracted, but quickly withdrew as she heard the tell-tale footfalls of a Judge's armour.

She had expected to see many things as the door to her prison opened, but her bodyguard was not one of them. It took great restraint on her part to stop herself running at him in relief.

"You are unharmed?"

Ashe frowned slightly at his clinical query; only then did she see the gaggle of people crowding behind him. As she approached, she readied herself for the inevitable questions, from both he and the men (for she doubted the viera would ask anything) at his back.

"Vossler, I-"

She felt a sudden weakness in her knees, and it was only the firm grip of her guardian that stopped her from falling completely. She saw the concern in his eyes, and knew his arm lingered too long on hers. She longed to reassure him properly, but for now a simple "it's nothing" would suffice. It would not do to appear weak in front of these people.

Ashe could see he was not satisfied, but forced herself to look away. Only then did she see _him._ All the relief that had come from seeing Vossler again was immediately replaced by the flames of ire.

"You," she spat, that one word imbued with more hatred than she had even for the Empire. The gods were cruel indeed, to throw such a man back in her path.

_Clank. Clank. Clank._

The jostle of Imperial feet reminded her of the need for haste. Though anger still burned within her, she allowed herself to led out of the brig by Vossler. A proper princess, now, she thought bitterly. Rescued by my knight in shining armour.

She would not be so weak again.


	17. Gossip

_Hmm, no reviews for two chapters in a row... Guess I'm not the only one who's busy._

_Tch, I don't like this one myself. Too much dialogue – I can't write dialogue well!_

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**Gossip**

**706 OV, 1 day since the events aboard the _LEVIATHAN_**

The few remaining members of the Resistance were bored. A great wyrm had interrupted their training at Windtrace Dunes, and, with their leader gone, they had little else with which to occupy themselves. Balzac, who had taken over Vossler's job when he'd vanished, had sworn he petitioned for the creature to be slain, but for now they were confined to Lowtown, fearing the Imperial patrols on the streets above.

It was no surprise they were restless – though they had started as mere vagrants and mercenaries, all that had remained after the disaster at the palace truly believed in their cause. But idle minds turn to idle chatter, and it was not long before the topic of conversation turned once again to their missing leader.

"Well, I still think he's the bleedin' snitch," a former pirate by the name of Agrias piped up. "Never did trust 'im. All that honour and such, it just don't seem real. 'Sides, a _real _Knight of the Order wouldn't jump ship at a single defeat, would 'e?"

"Aye, and he was friends with the King-Slayer, if I'm not mistaken. They always say you can tell a great deal about a man's character from the company he keeps." The room nodded in agreement. Though he spoke little, the burly sell-sword-turned-freedom-fighter always made sense when he did. Even if his audience didn't want to believe him.

"But what if there's more to it than that? You heard Basch; he said he didn't kill the King!"

"For the gods' sakes, Den, d'you have t' believe everything you hear? You've always been too idealistic. Why else would Azelas run off without tellin' anyone? He's a bloody rat, that's why."

"If he was a rat, then why did he spend two years building the Resistance up? If he was working for Vayne, he wouldn't have bothered. And as for Basch, the pieces fit, don't they?"

Agrias stopped, momentarily stunned. She was not used to being beaten in an argument, least of all by the naive (and her opinion, rather idiotic) Den. As she struggled to comprehend her defeat, the discussion continued, each rebel struggling to come up with new reasons as to why the Captain had deserted his followers.

"Mayhap it has something to do with that Amalia woman – did not the King-Slayer say the Imperials held her?"

"But why would he abandon us for her? He said himself, he held our lives in his hands!"

"'Less that was all just some mummer's farce. She was always special, won't she?" Her voice regained, Agrias had never been one to hide her dislike of the other woman. "I always knew she'd be our downfall. Never fitted in, did she? Always had a bed, while the rest of us made do with the bloody floor!"

Balzac lingered behind the door. He had been specifically ordered never to reveal Amalia's true identity to the main body of the Resistance, but if the pirate woman succeeded in riling the members up against her, there could only be terrible repercussions when Vossler returned with the incognito princess.

He made his decision as the rebel's rant continued, the sudden movement of the door causing hands to jump instinctively to weapons and eyes turn to face him. They were constantly on edge these days. He took advantage of this momentary command of attention, and turned to face his audience.

"Comrades, I can tell you why 'Amalia' is so special. She is..." He didn't quite know how to put it. After all, the men and women before him thought her to be dead, as did the rest of Ivalice. "She is Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca."

It was a simple statement, but there seemed to be mixed reactions within the crowd. Most seemed to be in a state of acute disbelief, Agrias included, whereas others were whispering things like "I _knew_ she looked familiar" to their neighbours. Balzac would always remember the one man who, after the initial noise had died down, whistled through his teeth and remarked:

"Cor... And 'ere I was, thinking she was just the Capt'n's girl."


	18. Meeting

_No reviews again? Hmm, I wonder if anyone's still reading..._

_For those who are interested in what happens when you give a fangirl way too much free time, check this out: w w w. d a i l y m o t i o n . c o m/video/xav1mu_ffxii-vosslerashe-frozen_videogames (without the spaces, obviously)._

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**Meeting**

**696 OV, 3 days before Ashe's 9th birthday**

"Ashelia, dear?" Raminas called into the seemingly empty chambers. No reply. Beside the King of Dalmasca, Vossler stood patiently, awaiting the appearance of the girl he was tasked with protecting. The pair waited in semi-awkward silence for a few minutes, before Raminas called again.

This time, someone entered the room, though it was not the young princess, but her nanny. The older woman met the King's questioning gaze, and answered with a sigh: "She says she will not come out until you call her by her 'proper' name."

At this, Raminas smiled, though the knight beside him was merely confused. Proper name? Vossler was not aware Princess Ashelia had another name. He wondered how much else he would have to learn over the course of his posting, but his musing was interrupted as the King called once again.

"Would you come out here for a moment, _Ashe_? There's someone I would like you to meet."

Appeased, the princess trotted out of the adjoining room, only to stop and stare at Vossler, immediately suspicious. "Daddy..." she began, eyes squinted in a way that was clearly supposed to be intimidating. "What's a soldier doing here?"

Raminas had decided beforehand to tell his daughter the truth of the matter – to lie to her now would spell disaster for the future. But he was still struggling as to how he could explain it in a way she would understand, young and sheltered as she was.

"Vossler here will be..." He searched for the right phrase. "Looking after you for a while. He-"

Ashe didn't give him time to elaborate, interjecting with a bright "OK!". Her father was surprised that she had accepted her new guardian so easily, but also relieved. That was one less complication in the years to come, though he could not help but wonder what is was about Captain Azelas that made her so accepting. Perhaps she was simply desperate for another person to talk to.

"Well then, there seems to be no problem here!" Raminas laughed. "I'm afraid I must be off, but I'll leave you two to get acquainted properly. Nanny Bennett, a word, if you please."

With that, Vossler was left alone with the young princess. He had never had much experience with children, and was at a loss as to what to say to her. He decided to trust his instinct, and treat her as he would any other member of the royal family: he knelt on one knee, bowed his head and awaited her response.

Unexpectedly, Ashe burst into laughter. "What are you doing?" she asked, mirth still evident in her voice.

"I am only showing the proper respect, my lady."

"My lady? I'm not a lady! And having to kneel in front of me's silly. Stand up."

Vossler did so, and he could see the girl found his bemusement rather entertaining. He had never met the princess before, and he had not expected to find such an outspoken personality within the palace's walls. Then again, maybe it was only the military and the nobility that forced propriety and protocols – away from the former, and probably most of the latter, perhaps Ashelia (no, _Ashe) _was free of such expectations.

"Much better. Now, do you like chocobos?"

He blinked in surprise. The change of subject was so sudden, yet he sensed she expected him to answer, and promptly.

"I... suppose."

She beamed at him. "Yay! Then you know how to ride one?" She didn't even wait for a reply. "Then I can ask Daddy if you'll teach me instead. He said I could have lessons when I turned nine, and Master Winnbagg was supposed to do it, but I think he's too old, and he's boring, and I don't really like him, and he's really slow, but..."

The young Ashe's babbling gave Vossler time to regather his thoughts. It was her birthday in three days, if he was not mistaken. As he looked once more at the indefatigable princess, he remembered the toy merchant he often saw as he walked through the Muthru Bazaar on patrol. The chocobo dolls he sold would make a fine gift for her.


	19. Training

_Thanks for reviewing, TouhouDespair! I really appreciate people taking the time to review._

_Kind of a short chapter this time – I'll try to make the next one longer._

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**Training**

**705 OV, 6 months after the fall of Dalmasca**

"Again."

Ashe lifted herself off the dusty floor for what seemed like the fiftieth time, scrambling to her feet in time to catch the wooden sword. He had an awful lot of faith in her endurance, for someone who had argued against this instruction for so many months.

"Ready?"

Vossler charged at her again, even as she struggled to recall the defensive technique he had just shown her. Panicking, she flailed wildly, only to be disarmed and knocked to the ground in an embarrassingly short length of time. As he helped her up, Ashe was only grateful that the other Resistance members had not gathered around to watch.

"Do you think... I might take... a short break?" she panted, looking around in vain for a fountain or other such source of water.

"Of course," he replied, handing her his own water skin. "Perhaps, after you have recovered, we can try disarming again."

She drained the skin, leaning against a stone pillar for support. On the other side of the courtyard, Vossler busied himself examining the dummy weapons he had acquired (on her instruction, no less) for their training sessions. She looked down at her hands, already red with blisters and sores, and closed her fists over them, broken and dirtied nails digging into the raw flesh. She refused to give in the pain. That would be weak.

Meanwhile, Vossler had finished his inspections, and picked out two of the less battered pieces for the next session. As he approached, he could not help but think that maybe he was pushing her too hard. Yes, soldiers did this kind of practice every day, but... She wasn't a soldier, was she?

Nevertheless, Ashe readied herself without a word when he reached her position. She even managed to hide her grimace as she took the wooden great-sword. Vossler had weighted it so as to properly mimic an actual blade, and it was nearly too heavy for her to wield properly. He checked her stance before taking his place opposite her.

"Right," Ashe noted the change in the tone of his voice, indicating he was slipping back into military instructor mode. "Most Imperial soldiers are like to initiate an exchange with a downwards slash, like so." He demonstrated. "Do you remember the evade and counter I showed you?"

She nodded in response, readying herself for the upcoming attack.

"Ready?"

He charged. Unlike the last time, however, Ashe recalled the correct defence in time, side-stepping the sweep and – though it took a few jerky motions – managing to wrest Vossler's weapon from his hands. He congratulated her as he bent to retrieve the faux blade, but did not see her wince from the pain in her hands as he did so.

He only noticed when, upon the fifth or so engagement, she released the sword mid-swing, throwing herself off balance. As he caught her hand to prevent her falling, she hissed in pain from his touch. Only then did he stop her, turning her hands over so he could inspect her palms.

"Ashe..." A hint of worry had crept into his voice, as it so often did where she was concerned nowadays. "You really must tell me if you get blisters or the like."

"But-"

"There is no shame in bearing sores from battle, only in suffering in silence."

She fell silent then. As he applied the potion to her hands, binding them in cloth to prevent infection where the skin had been rubbed away, she wondered if he cared for all those under his tutelage in the same way.

She got her answer when, whilst walking through the hall that doubled as the residence for most of the rebel fighters, she noted that near all of the new recruits still had raw, un-treated blisters upon their palms.


	20. Proposal

_Sorry about the (very) late update guys, I was away from an internet connection for a couple of days. This one didn't even turn out the way I wanted... Also, I hate writing Raminas – we see so little of him, it's near impossible to get a strong hold on his character._

_Thanks for reviewing, TouhouDespair! It's always appreciated. Here's hoping someone else'll review this time as well._

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**Proposal**

**703 OV, 1 day after Ashe's birthday fête**

"Ashe, dear?" Raminas called. "Are you in there? You're not busy, are you?"

"No, father," came the reply. She was rather surprised to hear his voice: ever since the King had heard about the massing of Archadian forces in Phon, he'd been visiting her less and less. It must be something important.

"Ashe," he said, entering the room. "I have a proposal for you."

"Hmm?" Her curiosity had been piqued. It could be just another royal duty she had been so swamped with since turning sixteen, but this sounded quite interesting.

"You are sixteen now." Raminas said simply, sitting down next to her on the bed. Contrary to that statement, she shuffled impatiently, looking every bit the small, excited child.

"Old enough to be queen. Old enough to be married."

Of course. Ashe had always known the day would come. The only question was, who would it be? Surely no one in the palace – with the whispers of war, Raminas would undoubtedly want to form as many alliances as he could. Whatever was best for Dalmasca. As always.

"Who?"

That basic statement hurt Raminas more than anything else. He had not wanted his daughter to marry so soon. But the wedding would be a symbol of the trust between Dalmasca and Nabradia, and may just be enough to rebuff the militant might of Archadia. Unlikely, but it was his only chance.

"Rasler Heios Nabradia. Heir of Nabradia."

That clinical tone pretty much summed up Ashe's feelings towards the matter. True, she had never once met Rasler of Nabradia. But she had always known she would have to marry for her country. And her parents had found love after their arranged marriage. Perhaps it would be the same for her. But she had always hoped, in her youthful romanticism, that she would be able to choose her own partner.

"Very well."

"Ashe, I-" The King of Dalmasca stopped in his tracks. The princess had always been strong-willed, and he had anticipated a long and lengthy negotiation. Yet here she was, accepting an arranged marriage without a single word against it. Well, if she was in an agreeable mood, there was no better time to bring up another issue, one that had been bothering him for some time.

"Is that all, father?"

"Just one more thing. I have to talk to you about your bodyguard."

"Vossler?" Ashe's dispassionate tone had all but disappeared at the very mention of her guardian. Even that worried Raminas: if Captain Azelas were to fall in battle... There was only so much Raminas could hide from the public, and she could not be seen to be grieving for a soldier, of all things.

"...Yes. I appreciate that you and he are close, but-"

"I am not about to sever my ties with Vossler, father."

"But, Ashe, I-"

"No, father. You would deprive me of my only friend? After asking me to marry a complete stranger?"

Raminas knew when he was beat. His daughter had always known how to use guilt to her advantage. There would be no victory through a battle of words.

"Of course not. I'll see you tomorrow, Ashe."

He exited swiftly, leaving Ashe alone in her chambers. Why had she jumped to Vossler's defence with such fervour, whereas she had felt nothing over her sudden engagement to the heir of Nabradia? In the brief peace she had before Vossler arrived for the night watch, she pondered on the matter. Unfortunately, it was not enough time to reach a conclusion.

Meanwhile, King Raminas was passing the approaching Vossler in the corridor. He gave him a genial nod as the Captain bowed his head in deference. He had nothing against the man himself – the knight was a great soldier, almost on par with Captain Ronsenburg – but the affection Ashe had for him was far too great for a princess-knight relationship.


	21. Farewells

_bluebearsg, you're back! Thanks for reviewing these last six chapters!_

_I'm slowly starting to run out of non-AU ideas... I reckon I've got about six left, ignoring any I come up with in the future. If you readers have any suggestions, leave a one-word prompt in a review, and I'll give it a shot._

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**Farewells**

**704 OV, 1 month before Ashe's marriage to Rasler**

"Ashe, the carriage is ready to leave. Please hurry."

"I'm coming, Vossler! Calm down – it's not exactly going to leave without me, is it?"

In reality, Ashe was not coming. She hadn't even got changed. She'd been putting that off for the last hour or so. Today was the day she was finally going to meet her husband to be, and if truth be told, she wasn't relishing the prospect of marriage.

It seemed so long ago now, when her father had told her of the upcoming match. Back then she'd been resigned to her fate, as she had all her life, but now... It suddenly seemed very real, far removed from the distant event she had agreed to all those months ago.

"Ashe?"

Vossler's voice sounded again, snapping her out of her reverie. She had procrastinated too long; from his tone, it sounded like he was on the verge of coming into the room and checking on her progress himself. But he wouldn't, of course. It wouldn't be proper.

"I'm on my way out!"

Looking into the mirror, Ashe did a quick self-assessment. She needed a suitable dress, shoes, and... Gods, her hair was a complete mess. Tugging a brush through the tangled locks, she rooted through one of the trunks the maids had prepared for her stay in Nabradia, pulling out the first gown she saw. Everything else was hastily thrown back in, her bedclothes flung over the bed as she battled with the complex fastenings of the dress she'd selected.

"Ashe..."

Securing an ornate necklace around her neck, she finally walked out of the door, managing to look as if she'd been ready for hours. A wave of relief washed over Vossler's features, and he rushed into her rooms to pick up the trunks. It was not one of his official duties, as knight or bodyguard, but Ashe had requested that he do it, so that she may talk with him as she prepared to leave Dalmasca.

They reached the front doors of the palace, where Vossler lay down the heavy cases.

"I'm afraid this is as far as I go."

"You're not coming with me?"

"Nay, your father has decreed that Basch shall take my place on the journey, and, upon your arrival, Nabradia will provide the necessary protection."

Was she mistaken, or did she detect a hint of sadness in his voice? He masked it well, and she saw him stiffen into military stance as King Raminas arrived to bid farewell to his daughter. His royal duties bound him to Rabanastre, and so could not accompany her, but he was keen to see her off. She listened to his send-offs, giving him a brief hug before turning to Vossler once more.

Only when she was sure her father was truly gone did she speak.

"Promise that you'll visit me in Nabradia. No matter what my father - or the other knights – say."

With that, she wrapped her arms around him, and was pleasantly surprised when he hugged her back. He didn't say anything, but that one embrace said more than words ever could. Both knew they held each other too long, but in this final moment before a month's separation, neither cared.

"Majesty?"

Basch had appeared behind them, though he had the decency not to comment. Ashe turned to him, giving Vossler one more meaningful look before she did so. She doubted he'd be able to come to Nabradia at all, given what rumours such a visitation would be sure to evoke, but she could hope.

As she and Basch proceeded down the steps to the waiting carriage, Vossler watched Ashe go. The knight in him told him that this separation was for the best: she was to married, and it would do for her to seem too attached to another, particularly if that other happened to be merely a soldier in her service. But the rest of him knew that, over the next month, he was going to miss her.

He turned away as the palace gates closed behind the departing carriage, making a mental note to take leave and head to Nabudis at some point in the coming month.


	22. Visit

_Ugh, I really shouldn't have done NaNoWriMo this year... But I'll keep working on this._

_Thanks for reviewing, you guys! And the chocobo chapter'll probably be up on Sunday, heh._

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**Visit**

**704 OV, 2 weeks before Ashe's marriage to Rasler**

Vossler walked briskly through the streets of Nabudis, heading directly for the Royal Palace. His strange attire had elicited stares from the people in the streets, and everywhere he walked eyes turned to face him. At the back of his mind, a small voice kept saying, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

But he had promised Ashe. Though he had not given any verbal recognition of the agreement, it was one he felt he had to honour. Well, that was the excuse he had, to keep the knight in him quiet. The truth was, he had wanted to visit her – he had never thought he would miss the princess so.

It had been easy to get leave from his duties. Vossler had rarely taken holidays during the eight years he had worked as Ashe's bodyguard, and as such had a number of days available, despite the cuts made due to the threat of war. The only problem had been enduring Rishal's taunting as the bangaa watched him fill out the necessary paperwork. Much like Basch, Rishal knew his and Ashe's relationship went far beyond the professional, but, unlike Basch, seemed to have no qualms about commenting on it.

"Off to see the princess, are you? Bah, I knew you wouldn't last long!"

Vossler had paid little heed to him, and was soon on his way to Nabradia. Now, as his boots tapped noisily on the floor of the Palace's main foyer, drawing un-needed attention, he was forced to endure yet more comments, these being somewhat harder to ignore.

"Is that a Knight of Dalmasca?"

"Aye – 'tis the Lady Ashe's bodyguard, if I'm not mistaken. I've seen them together often."

From across the room, Vossler could see the two men who had spoken, conversing in hushed tones. He recognised one as a Dalmascan noble, of the type that usually roamed the palace.

"What's he doing here? It was made quite clear that House Nabradia would provide sufficient protection."

"Don't you see? He's not in armour – this must be a personal visit."

"A knight, visiting the very royalty he serves, on a personal visit? I've never heard of such a thing!"

The knight in question moved swiftly on, trying to block out the noblemen's words. In that one brief exchange, they had summed up nearly all his fears and inhibitions about visiting Ashe.

"My Lady Ashe?" A squire called. "You have a visitor. One Captain Azelas. Shall I let him up?"

Ashe turned her head. Had she heard right? Vossler, here in Nabudis? She had resigned herself within the first week that she would have to do without his companionship for the length of her stay, yet here he was. Seeing that the squire was about to leave, she uttered a hurried admission.

The boy trotted in front of her guest as he led him through the labyrinthine passageways of the Palace, before coming to a halt outside Ashe's door. Vossler waited for him to disappear completely before he entered – palace servants were notorious for their gossiping, and he did not want the lad to jump to any conclusions. Better he think Vossler just a messenger between king and princess.

"Vossler, I-"

Ashe paused for a moment. She had grown so used to seeing him in armour, the Vossler before her seemed to be a very different man to the one she had known. But she regained her composure quickly, and continued.

"I never expected you to actually come. How long are you here?"

"Just a day. I must be back in Rabanastre, and..."

"I understand," she said, smiling faintly. "Then let us make the most of this one day."

They sat and talked for a time, and the topic turned, as it inevitably would, to Ashe's husband-to-be.

"How is Lord Rasler?"

"He is all I could have hoped for. Kind, caring, smart enough to have an intelligent conversation with... Far removed from what I had pictured, I assure you!"

"I'm sure he will make a fine husband for you."

"Hmm, do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

Vossler was speechless for a moment, before realising she was only joking with him. For all she was supposed to be, it seemed as if Ashe had not lost her sense of humour.


	23. Chocobo

_Thanks for reviewing, bluebearsg – I'm glad you liked it! _

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**Chocobo**

**696 OV, 1 day after Ashe's 9th birthday**

"Can I go today, Daddy? Please, you promised!"

Raminas turned to smile at his young daughter. She had been begging to start her riding lessons from the moment she awoke on the morning of her birthday, but, as the princess's special day was a national holiday, her tutor had been away from the palace. Today, however, he saw no reason why she should be stopped. He had promised, after all.

"Well, Master Winnbagg has returned. I don't see why not."

"Master _Windbag_?" Ashe pouted. "I thought you said I could go with Vossler?"

"Yes, I did, didn't I? But I think it would be a good idea for Master Winnbagg to go as well, don't you?"

"No!"

Raminas couldn't help but laugh at Ashe's indignation. "Very well, I shall go tell Master Winnbagg his services will not be required today. Why don't you run down to the stables? There might be a late birthday present waiting for you."

"'Kay!" The young girl tore off down the hallway. He knew her nanny had often chastised her for such abandon, but Raminas took great joy in it – he would rather have a daughter such as she than one suppressed by the propriety that surrounded her. He smiled to himself as he turned towards the old tutor's quarters, knowing the man he was about to visit was like to welcome the opportunity to avoid what was sure to be a tiring day.

It only took a few minutes for Ashe to descend the numerous staircases of the palace and reach the stables. Servants and nobles alike parted ways to let the speeding princess through, and she nearly knocked over a poor man carrying breakfast to the ailing queen.

Upon reaching the stables, she bobbed up and down impatiently for a few minutes, before taking matters into her own hands and opening the door herself. The sudden movement startled the pair of chocobos behind it, and Vossler struggled to keep them under control.

Just as he managed to becalm them, the young Ashe peered around the door, squealing loudly as she saw the little chocobo bedecked with silks and ribbons (in her favourite colours, no less). While Vossler's mount warked loudly in protest, the smaller bird peered at her curiously.

"Kweh?"

She beamed. "He talked to me!" She ran over to the chocobo, wrapping her arms around its neck. Turning to Vossler, she said:

"Did you pick him out? I love Daddy, but he thinks all chocobos are the same! Even when I tell him all about them! If he picked a chocobo, he'd probably give me yours..."

"I did suggest this fellow." Vossler replied, gesturing to the bird in question.

"Thank you!" Ashe ran over to him, hugging him around the waist. Vossler didn't know quite what to make of it – he had known the princess all of five days, and yet here she was, clinging limpet-like to him.

"What's his name?" she asked, finally letting go.

"He doesn't have one yet."

"Oh, that's a shame... Wait, could _I_ name him?"

Vossler nodded, a ghost of a smile crossing over his features.

"Yay! Hmm... How about Boco? Or maybe Choco? No, I like Boco better. Boco it is! Let's get going!"

Vossler handed her the reins of the newly christened Boco, and guided his own chocobo out of the stables. He paused by the mounting block. "Do you want me to help you up, or would you prefer to use the block?"

"It's OK, I'll just jump up." Ashe proceeded to attempt to do so, first trying to get her foot high enough to reach the stirrup. When that didn't happen, she took a running jump at poor Boco's back. Vossler closed his eyes as he saw her hit the floor. Thank the gods that the miniature chocobo was so calm.

Un-fazed, the princess picked herself up, dusted off her new riding clothes and asked, with as much dignity as was possible, "I could do with a little help, actually."

Vossler obliged, boosting her into the saddle and checking that her feet were securely in the stirrups. He handed the beribboned reins to her, and vaulted onto his own bird. Behind him, Ashe struck her best regal pose, and asked, "How do I look?" before squeaking in surprise as her mount shook its plumed tail.

"Do you see that horn on the front of the saddle?" Vossler called back. "Just hold on to that if you feel insecure. And whatever you do, don't kick him!"

"OK! Where are we going?"

"The Stepping, in the Estersand. Squeeze his sides – _gently__** –**_ to make him walk and steer with the reins to make him follow me. Tell me if you feel unsafe, alright?"

Ashe did so, holding onto the horn for dear life as she swayed from side to side. But she soon got used to the rhythm, and by the time she reached the East Gate, she was able to balance quite well, even letting go of the saddle occasionally. She was excited – she'd never been to the desert before, and to go there riding her favourite animal ever...

Maybe she was a little too excited. Upon seeing what she thought to be a cactus (it was actually a sleeping Cactite), she jumped, kicking Boco rather hard. He tore off at a sprint, his young rider bouncing all over as she clung to his neck. Vossler saw a streak of yellow rush past him and kicked his chocobo into pursuit, swearing under his breath.

He arrived in time to see Ashe flying through the air, landing unbearably close to a bemused Wild Saurian. She sat up, dazed, staring straight into its yellow eyes. If she was scared, she hid it well, as it sniffed her curiously, nudging her with its nose, before moving on its way.

Vossler dismounted, running over to where she sat. "Ashe, are you OK?"

"I think so. That was fun!"

He had to admit, he couldn't quite comprehend what was so fun about coming so close to certain death. As he helped her up, he asked, "Will you be continuing with this lesson, or do you intend to return to the palace?"

"Oh, no," she replied, "You're not getting out of this that easily! We're staying here until Daddy sends someone to come get us!"

There was a pause, in which the only sound was the wind blowing.

"Er... Help me up?"


	24. Assault

_It was a bit of an adventure, wasn't it? I love writing little nine-year-old Ashe – I can do so much with her that I can't with older, more serious characters._

_I'm glad you liked it, and thanks for reviewing as always!_

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**Assault**

**706 OV, the day of the Consul's fête**

"Squads 3, 2 and 6 are in place; they stand ready. So far the Imperials haven't noticed a thing."

"Then go now, and hurry the others. By nightfall we must ensure all of our men are in place."

The chorus of "Sir!" spread through the gathering of men, and they sped off after Den, the man who'd confirmed the squads' position. Vossler watched them a moment, before sensing movement behind him. He turned, just in time to see Ashe round the corner. He should have known she would follow him, despite his warnings. He should have known she'd want to fight.

There was no time to argue with her – he had to be in position himself if the assault on the palace was to have a chance of success. The most he could do was protect her, and give her the means to defend herself. She was armed, and he noted she had finally relented and opted for a single-handed sword. Good: the lighter weapon was far better suited to her size, and it had only been through her own stubbornness that he had continued to train her in the way of the great-sword.

Still, if she were to be captured... Thinking on his feet, Vossler removed a sheathed dagger from his belt, handing it to the princess.

"Conceal this somewhere on your person. If you find yourself otherwise compromised, it may be of use. Though I pray you never need it..."

Ashe took the small gift, somewhat surprised. She had expected to have to argue with him, never thinking he would actually permit her to fight with the Resistance. Especially on a mission such as this. She slid the knife into her boot, resting it in such a place that it did not restrict her movement.

"Thank you, Vossler." She rested her hand briefly on his arm, the corners of her mouth twitching. He no longer froze at her touch, the barrier between princess and guardian long since dissolved over the two years they had lived and fought together. If all went to plan tonight, they need fight no longer. But what then?

The quiet moment was broken as Den returned from his errands. He gave the pair a strange look, but was sensible enough to say nothing of it. "Sir, all squads are now in place, save yourself. We await your signal."

"Then we attack at the tenth toll of the bell, when the celebration is in full swing. Inform the others, and return to your post".

The messenger turned on his heel and trotted off. Vossler made to follow, but not before checking Ashe was ready herself. Tonight would be a long night, and only the mercy of the gods would ensure that they got out unscathed.

"You will go with me?"

"Of course."

It was not a simple matter to navigate the winding channels of the Garamsythe Waterway, nor was it a pleasant place in which to get lost. Soaked from the knee downwards with all manner of liquids, many of which he would prefer not to think about, Vossler was only glad for the map the scouts had preparing. Ashe was merely thankful she had not decided to forsake the gilt leg guards she wore, as she contemplated before setting out.

They found no comfort upon reaching the palace, either. The alcove in which Vossler had thought to conceal himself from the Imperial patrols was really only big enough for one, and even the addition of Ashe's slender frame required her to press up against him constantly. Even through his heavy armour, he could feel her heart hammering in her chest, only increasing in rapidity each time a soldier passed by.

She was surprised for the second time that day when, in a bid to calm her racing nerves, he placed a gloved hand around her shoulders. Ashe looked up at his face, knowing not what she hoped to see, but was nonetheless disappointed to find a cold stare watching the patrols behind her.


	25. Pirate

_No reviews this time? Ah well..._

_Sorry it's so short – this wasn't one of my better ideas. I'm surprised it made it to this length, actually. Well, enjoy, anyway._

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**Pirate**

**706 OV, 1 week after Ashe's kidnapping**

Vossler did not like Balthier.

This much was certain. The sky pirate stood for everything Vossler didn't – he was a thief, and a cocky one at that. Never mind that the fellow was Archadian.

Vossler was convinced that Balthier was using him and Ashe for some nefarious scheme, though he had to admit, he didn't know what it was. There was something about the finely dressed rogue that just irked him: maybe it was the double entendres the man would constantly spin, or the way he spoke so casually with the future Queen of Dalmasca.

He still couldn't understand why Ashe had ran off with him. She barely knew Balthier – Vossler could forgive her for disappearing and making him worry so, but not for putting her own life in danger in the process. Balthier was an outlaw, a wanted criminal. He could only be bad news.

Yet she continued to assure him of the sky pirate's trustworthiness. Maybe she saw something he didn't. Maybe she was just too trusting. For all his fancy words and eloquent speech, what had the man truly said of his motives? Vossler saw Balthier as a snake in the grass, waiting to strike, weaving an elegant tapestry of lies to deceive them.

But it wasn't mere untrustworthiness that made the former knight dislike Balthier so. There was something deeper, something Vossler was far less willing to admit. In the back of his mind, a small voice kept reminding him of this other reason. _You are jealous of him,_ it would say, over and over again.

Jealous? What had he to be jealous of? That charlatan had no honour or sense of decency to speak of. But it was not Balthier's morals and codes that he envied, was it?

It was the way he attracted Ashe's attention so, how he had garnered her trust so soon after meeting her. How she had evidently laid so much trust in him that she actually asked him to 'steal' her. It was the way the pirate found it so easy to talk with her, despite the contrast between their status.

Of course, Vossler would say nothing of this to anyone, let alone Ashe. Gods knew, she had enough problems as it was, without his petty issues with Balthier. He should not envy a looter, a pirate, a thief. He was above that.

But he still could not bring himself to like Balthier. Everyone else in the party seemed to. Even Basch, though whether he actually liked or merely tolerated him was up for debate. The blond kid idolised him. The other kid, the girl, seemed to have something of a crush on him. The viera... Well, Vossler assumed she liked him, being his partner and all. And as for Ashe...

"I don't suppose you remember to bring a change of wardrobe, princess? That little blighter tore one of my cuffs, and I have sand in places sand has no right to be."

The tell-tale Archadian tone of Balthier's voice snapped Vossler out of his thoughts. How he hated that voice. So easily did it lend itself to the telling of lies, of elaborate farces. Was it his silver tongue that had charmed Ashe so? He hoped she was above that.

"No? Then I suppose I'll have to settle for a bathe in one of those pools... Care to join me?"

It was the ease with which such comments rolled off the sky pirate's tongue that infuriated Vossler the most. He himself would not even imagine making such a remark to the princess. And yet she was not outraged, as he was sure she would have been had anyone asked such.

Maybe that was why Vossler disliked Balthier so. Maybe he just wanted Ashe to himself.


	26. Pub

_Hey, someone new! Thanks for reviewing, adeline, and you too, TouhouDespair!_

_Well... This went in a slightly different direction than the one I had planned. But hey, I like it, so it stays._

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**Pub**

**706 OV, 3 months before the Consul's fête**

The Sandsea pub was bustling with activity. Merchants went about their business, picking up materials from Tomaj, the local supplier. Old friends met at the bar for drinks and talk. Wait staff trotted to and fro carrying plates of the latest trends in food. Despite all this, the pub was not the same happy place it had once been.

Upon the balcony, where the bangaa and seeq would have once held raucous drinking contests, and where many a young couple would have once sat in a secluded corner, Imperial soldiers now sat, surveying the busy scene below them with cool superiority. The only 'provincials' allowed up that staircase now were the waitresses, and even they were not treated with respect. The Imperial presence put a damper on the spirit of the place, as it had put a damper on the spirit of Dalmasca.

It was also the reason Vossler hated visiting the Sandsea. But it had proven to be a valuable source of information – if one positioned oneself carefully, it was quite possible to overhear drunken officers spewing secrets of the Empire's movements. It was here, at this very table, that he had heard tell of the newly elected Consul, and it was here he hoped to learn more details of the visitation.

He had not wanted her to come with him. But Ashe had been quite insistent, saying she wished to take part in the activities of the Resistance. And what right had he to deny her that? He knew she wished to fight, and he would not have her on the front-lines. It was too dangerous.

Having secured the table, Vossler scanned the crowded room for his companion. He soon espied her head bobbing towards him, her body weaving effortlessly through the dense mass of people blocking her path. And not once did she spill even a drop of the two drinks that they would nurse throughout the night.

It was only as she neared that he saw the expression on her face. She looked positively disgusted, and kept throwing glances back at a group of burly men sitting at the bar. He frowned as she seated herself next to him, slamming the two glasses of cheap ale down onto the wood of the table.

"'Amalia'..." He began hesitantly, forcing himself to use her alias. Two years, and it still wasn't natural to him.

"Those men, Vossler! They won't stop staring at me!" He opened his mouth to say something in reply, but Ashe intercepted him. "And don't you dare say anything about the skirt!"

Vossler stopped, taken aback. He would never have dreamed to say anything about the skirt, inappropriate though it may be, when she was so obviously upset. As it was, he couldn't think of anything to say that would help her.

"'Amalia', I-"

"Oh for the gods' own sake, one of them coming over here! This is the last thing I need..."

As Ashe rested her forehead on her knuckles, Vossler turned his head to face the approaching man. He was of the large and stupid variety, if his appearance was anything to go by. The man conveniently ignored Vossler's presence, addressing Ashe directly.

"Hey, gorgeous. How d'you fancy some 'quality time' with me and me mates?"

"She's not interested." Vossler answered for Ashe, not trusting her to give the man a civil response.

"Hey you, let the lady speak!"

The lady in question lifted her gaze. "I'm not interested."

"Aw, why not? You're single, aren't ya?"

He certainly was persistent. But Ashe had a fail-safe for just such a situation.

"No," she replied, wrapping her arm around Vossler's waist. "I'm not."

Vossler completed the image by bringing his arm around her shoulders, giving her 'admirer' a dirty look as he did so.

"Oh, sorry mate, sorry! We didn't mean to hit on your girl or nothing!" Ashe's pursuer skittered off back to his friends, his face as red as a Rogue Tomato.

One eye still on the embarrassed man as he tried to explain the situation to his gaggle of friends, Ashe leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Thank you, Vossler," she said simply, settling her head onto his shoulder.

She saw the group of men leave the pub, and was surprised when Vossler didn't remove his arm. It was strangely comforting to have it there, particularly when she was in the presence of so many Imperial soldiers. So it was that she said nothing of it to him, merely enjoying the moment.

Odd though it may seem, she almost hoped that another salacious simpleton would approach her the next time they were in the Sandsea.


	27. Crush

_I've begun to notice a trend with these reviews... Seems that I'm more likely to get them for my Sunday updates. Hmm, maybe I should put up all my good chapters on Sunday, then._

_Writer's block again! It's strange, really – the chapters where I can't think of anything to write often end up longer than the ones where I can._

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**Crush**

**701 OV, 3 months after Ashe's 14th birthday**

Oh gods, this was so silly. She'd known Vossler for years, but damn... He'd never looked so hot before. She couldn't even look at him without blushing. She'd even giggled once when he'd looked at her. She had to get over this – he'd work it out soon enough, and she'd never live that down.

"Morning, Ashe."

She looked away as he greeted her, the tell-tale red colour creeping into her cheeks as she hid her face with her hands. She was making it so obvious. He was bound to figure it out. "Morning," she managed to get out, trying to suppress a girlish laugh. She was never normally like this. She'd been talking to Vossler every day for the past five years. So why was it she could she hardly look at him any more without getting all flustered?

Vossler had noticed her strange behaviour, but said nothing of it. He had seen a number of young women act that way around Basch, and always thought it silly, but he was sure she would get over it. There was no need to embarrass her.

However, he had to admit that it was starting to get annoying. He used to have long and interesting conversations with the teenage Ashe, far different to those he had with his friends amongst the knights. It was refreshing to be able to talk to someone who wasn't military – there were a fairly standard set of beliefs they all followed, and Ashe simply didn't understand much of these. Indeed, some of their more fascinating discussions were based solely around his rigid adherence to military procedure, something which she had been gradually trying to wean him off.

And it had been working. But now, every time he would even nod at her as she passed him whilst he was on guard duty, she would degenerate into this blushing fool. He was sure it was just a hormonal thing, and that she would move past it soon. He hoped it was just a hormonal thing. Maybe it would be a good idea just to sit down and talk to her about it. No, that would just humiliate her. But if it would let her move on, and just be his friend again...

A few steps behind him, Ashe was having similar ideas. She might as well just tell him: he wasn't exactly going to laugh at her or dislike her for it. And even if he did think it was just a joke, what did it really matter? She was sure that, as soon as she said it out loud, the small part of her that was even now making her ogle his backside would finally realise how stupid she was being. He was a soldier, for the gods' sakes, and she a princess. Things like that may happen in fairy tales, but not in real life.

Even without that being an issue, she still wouldn't want to lose him as a friend. If something happened and they grew apart, then what? Who would she talk to? The snobbish nobles that roamed the palace and greeted her at every meeting with a simpering 'Your Majesty'? The maids and servants who would never look her in the eye, and only ever addressed her as 'milady'? The other 'young ladies' who were only trying to get on her good side so their fathers could increase their standing with the king? As rich and grand as the palace was, it was rather thin on the ground when it came to friends.

As they reached Ashe's favourite garden, where she and Vossler would talk many a dreary day away, Vossler stopped and turned, addressing her at the same time she addressed him. He paused, nodding as an indication for her to continue.

"Vossler, I..."

She was so distracted. That face, so handsome and masculine. Those eyes, so gentle when they looked upon her, despite the horrors they must have seen on the battlefield. That mouth... Ashe shook her head, snapping herself out of her daydream. She sat on one of the benches, gesturing for Vossler to do the same.

"Vossler, I'm a little embarrassed to say this, but... I have something of a crush on you." She said finally, staring intently at her shoes.

"I assure you, I had no idea," he replied. It was sweet of him to lie for her. Particularly when she knew it went against his code. Seeing her expression as she kept her gaze firmly focused on the floor, he continued.

"It's quite alright. Just..."

"I know. It's just a stupid crush, anyway. I'll get over it."

"I'm sure you will. Just promise me you won't go and join Basch's fan club, OK?"

At this, Ashe lifted her head and smiled at him properly, with none of the girlish tittering that had accompanied such an act for the past few days. She gave him a brief hug, murmuring "Thanks, Vossler," before sitting back and striking up a normal, more mundane conversation.


	28. Parade

_Sorry about the late update... NaNoWriMo got in the way of things._

_I'm fairly happy with this one. I could have probably done more, but I like it, so it stays._

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**Parade**

**704 OV, Ashe's wedding day**

The drummers pounded their instruments, beating out a quick rhythm. The moogle bards matched it and went a step further, whistling out intricate little ditties on their dainty flutes. The people in the streets cheered and clapped. Even the normally industrious merchants had pulled themselves away from their stalls and shop fronts to witness the bright train of colour and celebration carry their princess to the cathedral.

It had been some time since the people of Dalmasca had had cause to celebrate. The last few years had been tense, the populace drip-fed information about the massing Archadian forces. Every one of them knew Dalmasca's place in the feud between the Empire and Rozarria, and the streets had been filled with little but worry as Emperor Gramis directed his troops toward Nabradia.

But on this day, they had the chance to forget all that, if only for a brief time. Ashe had certainly taken this chance, allowing all thoughts of hushed conversations between captains and extra protection around the palace to wash away as she looked over the smiling faces of her people.

She had not thought an arranged marriage could bring so much happiness to her country. It was a symbol of the allegiance between Dalmasca and Nabradia as far as they were concerned. They did not know that the bride and groom actually cared for each other. Perhaps they were merely glad to see some joy in the royal family: there had been very little of that since the late queen had passed away.

That was when she saw him. Vossler.

She had almost forgotten about him; she had been so caught up in her growing relationship with Rasler that any thoughts of her bodyguard had been neglected. He was in the crowd, cheering her along with everyone around him. He wore only a half-smile as she passed him by, but that was just his way. Ashe didn't care. She was just happy that he had managed to get off guard duty to come see her.

But wait a moment. Her father had told her that the Knights of the Order would be marching with her float as she passed through the streets of Rabanastre. Craning her neck, the movement handily hidden by her large veil, she saw that she had been right – there was Basch... and Rishal... and Lora... and Arslan... Why then, was Vossler in the crowd, and not amongst them?

Had her father deliberately excluded him?

Or had it simply been a case of Vossler drawing the short straw, and being stuck on crowd control duty as his friends marched to the beat of the procession's drummers?

In truth, it was neither of these things. King Raminas had asked Vossler, as he had all the knights, whether he would march in Ashe's wedding parade. Unlike the other knights, however, Vossler had declined. Respectfully, of course, but for whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to be directly involved with the entire marriage affair.

He couldn't explain why then, and he couldn't explain why now. It wasn't that he didn't want Ashe to be happy with her new husband – he would far rather she marry a man she cared for than one she hated. He _was_ happy for her. He had still wanted to come and watch the parade, to see her marry. But he couldn't face marching down the streets, leading her to be wed.

He had always known this would happen. But he had to admit, he had grown attached to her. He had seen Ashe mature from a bright young girl to the fine young woman he saw standing on that float before him, one arm linked with her partner's, the other waving gracefully to the masses of people staring up at her. Maybe he was just reluctant to let her go.

Ashe's eyes met Vossler's for just an instant, before the float moved on. He would have liked to think that wave and smile was solely for him, though he knew this was not the case. He moved to wave in return, to acknowledge her, but stopped his arm halfway as she turned to face her fiancé again.

On the float, Rasler lowered his gaze to his soon-to-be wife. She was distracted by someone in the crowd, though he did not know who. As he opened his mouth to whisper a query as to what was bothering her, she turned, flashing him a gentle smile. He closed his mouth again. She always knew how to shut him up.

As Rasler turned his eyes back to the left-hand side of the crowd, Ashe tried to subtly glance back at where Vossler stood. But it was too late. He had already been lost in the throngs of celebrating people.


	29. Party

_No reviews again? I'm losing faith in you guys... But thanks to whoever it was who added this to their alert list. Sorry, I can't quite remember the name, but thanks, anyway!_

_More Vossler feuding with Balthier in this chapter, because I find it funny. And Penelo's thoughts are somehow twice as long as Basch's..._

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**Party**

**706 OV, 8 days after Ashe's kidnapping**

Vossler found no joy in Ashe's choice of travelling companions. This much was obvious – he would never speak to them unless they spoke to him first, and, whenever they camped, would always sit slightly away from the group. He was ever at a distance, but, just as they never got to know what he thought of them, he never got to know what they thought of him.

Vaan did not like Vossler. Ever since he had first met 'Captain Azelas' on that errand for Old Dalan, he had taken an instant dislike of the former knight. Having only Basch to go by, the street rat had never thought the 'honourable Knights of the Order' could be so cold. From the moment that Vossler had snatched the old sword out of his grubby hands, Vaan had sided with Basch, a testament to just how little the thief thought of him.

To Balthier, Vossler was a source of great amusement. It was not long after their acquaintance that he had found an almost guaranteed strategy to get a rise out of him: simply refer to the princess in a slightly less that respectful way. It helped if the comment was the tiniest bit lewd, too. Near on every time, the captain would glare at him in a less than friendly way, his hatred for the sky pirate growing. It was a dangerous game, considering how much that sword would hurt when he finally snapped, but it was a game Balthier thought well worth playing. After all, with the greatest risks came the greatest rewards.

Out of all the men and women in Ashe's travelling party, the viera Fran was probably the closest in personality to Vossler. Both talked little, and generally kept themselves to themselves, save when alone with their given partners. Fran had long since grown tired of Balthier's games, and always gave Vossler an apologetic glance when her partner got out of hand. Though she suspected he still hated all sky pirates for their lack of morals, she, unlike Vaan or Balthier, did not hold this innate dislike against him. Unlike them, she knew that the only way to gain his respect was to give him respect in turn.

She had oft explained this to Balthier, when Vossler had taken himself off on the first watch after yet another salacious comment about the princess, but it seemed her wisdom was lost on him. At times like these, she would simply shake her head, and remember that not everyone in this world could get along.

Basch and Vossler were once close friends, but, understandably, a great distance was put between them after the alleged king-slaying. Basch still trusted Vossler, with both his life and Ashe's, though he knew his former friend was yet wary of him. But he understood why, and respected Vossler's devotion to Ashe and her cause for these past two years. He did not know why he had remained true for so long, when all the other knights that remained after Nalbina had long since fled the country, but it was enough for him to place his trust in Vossler, and hope that, in time, Vossler would come to do the same to him.

And Penelo, ever cheery and pleasant, had nothing but mixed feelings about the knight captain who had recently joined their band of travellers. On the one hand, she respected him as a soldier would his superior; that's what she got for having three older brothers that had all served under him at some point. They would say he was a good captain – tough, but not too tough, and he seemed to care about his men.

Sometimes she saw that side of him, but, for whatever reason, it was a rare occurrence. It wasn't that he was mean to her. Quite the contrary. He was always polite when she talked to him, and he even took the pains to compliment her on her cooking every time her turn came. Even though she knew he would spend most of the night in the bushes, emptying his bowels of whatever meal she had made, she was grateful that he didn't complain as Balthier and Vaan did.

The only problem she had with him was that he was too much of a closed book. He never spoke about himself – the complete antithesis of Balthier, who talked about himself at every possible opportunity – and he was just too much of a soldier. The only time he ever seemed to remove the metaphorical rod up his backside was when he was alone with Ashe. That was the Vossler Penelo wanted to get to know.

Ashe, of course, knew all this. Balthier delighted in telling her of the party's (by which he meant himself and, to a lesser extent, Vaan) disdain for Vossler. On the other side, Vossler would often extol the virtues of leaving the cocky little pain-in-the-backside behind. She had given up trying to make peace between them a long time ago.

As long as Vossler had not run Balthier through with his sword by the end of the pirate's travels with them, she would consider her efforts a success. A small goal, though one that was getting less and less likely to become reality, as the two men glared at each other across the camp fire, the women at their sides exchanging sympathetic looks.


	30. Hunting

_Thanks, bluebearsg! Don't worry too much about reviewing – I know what it's like to be busy, so I'm just glad you managed to find time to come back here._

_Pure spontaneity this time. I'm quite sure that the third to last paragraph is completely OOC. But never mind. It was fun to write, if nothing else._

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**Hunting**

**706 OV, 5 days after Ashe's kidnapping**

Food was scarce in the Nam-Yensa Sandsea. At least there had been Alraunes near the Ogir-Yensa expanse – their fruit had sustained the party for quite some time, before they passed into Urutan territory. Now all that could be seen was the scuttling, insect-like little humanoids, and no one fancied taking a bite out of one of them. Not even Vaan, who had been known to eat all manner of things back in Rabanastre.

So it was that Ashe and the two Dalmascan youths had been sent ahead, to gather anything that looked even remotely edible. Naturally, Vossler insisted on accompanying the princess, and hung back with her as the children scampered ahead. They seemed to have boundless energy, despite the blazing sun beating down on them.

As they walked, Ashe glanced over at her companion, who would occasionally make absent-minded swings at any Urutan-Yensa that strayed too close. Silently, she wondered how he never got tired with all that armour on; the heat was stifling even to her, and her garment was nothing compared to the full plate he always wore.

It was then she realised that he _was _tired, but, just like she would, he was trying to hide it. The more she looked, the more she saw it. It was there in the laboured sweeps of his blade, in the lack of precision he usually had with the heavy weapon. It was there in the small drops of sweat running down his face, which he refused to wipe away.

What was it Basch had said? If you are tired, we stop and take rest. Ashe still hated the man who had murdered her father, but even she could not deny that it was sound advice. Now if only Vossler would listen to his old friend's wisdom.

Having finally felt her gaze on him, Vossler turned his head to face her, his eyes leaving the battlefield for the briefest of moments. Ashe opened her mouth as if to speak, but was saved the trouble by a shrill cry from up ahead. With surprising speed, Vaan ran up to them, raising a great dust cloud behind him as he did so.

"Yensa!" The blond street urchin managed to pant. "Yensa up ahead!"

Heaving his sword back into position, Vossler turned to face the source of Vaan's excitement, all traces of fatigue fading away. Ashe too drew her weapon, but not before thrusting a potion onto him. He drained half the bottle, before offering the rest to Ashe, insisting that she should also partake of the revitalising liquid. It was tempting – the desert was harsh on her, too – but Ashe could see who truly needed the curative, and forced him to finish.

Only then did the two run up to join their fellow Dalmascans, who were already embroiled in the struggle. The ground was littered with the carcasses of the Urutan who had fought alongside their mount, and now only the over-sized fish remained.

"We'll eat well tonight!" Vaan yelled, bringing his blade down with enough force to elicit a low rumbling noise from his opponent.

Penelo nodded vigorously in agreement as she swung her staff in time with the flow of the Mist as she cast, adding a chirpy "We sure will!" as the magick made contact.

It took the concerted efforts of all four party members to finally fell the beast, but the meat it would afford the party was definitely worth it. With Ashe's hasty exit from Bhujerba, they had little in the way of supplies, and none of the small group of warriors had eaten anything other than Alraune fruit for a good five days. In their circumstances, meat was a much desired luxury, the acquisition of which was well worthy of celebration.

Vaan threw his precious water skin up in the air, as a graduate of the Archadian Akademies might do his scholar's cap. Vossler watched this little stunt with mild amusement, knowing the Empire-hating boy was completely unaware of the irony of the situation.

Meanwhile, Penelo entertained herself and anyone watching with a quick little dance, spinning and twirling with such energy that one would not have thought she had just been fighting for her life. Ashe watched this, and a smile began to form on her face, before she remembered her vow and forced it down.

It was in this moment of sheer joy, one small victory amongst so many failures, that Ashe finally lost her inhibitions, if only for a short time. Overcome by some strange emotion, she was suddenly compelled to kiss Vossler on the cheek, in a move that left him stunned into silence.

She regained her composure quickly, sending a wary glance over to Vaan and Penelo. But the two youths were still caught up in their celebrations, completely oblivious to the rest of the world. Even the steadily increasing mass of Urutan approaching on the horizon didn't seem to register with them.

The all-round good mood was only dampened when Penelo reminded everyone that it was her turn to cook tonight.


	31. Plot

_Glad you liked the chapter, bluebearsg – I thought it was a little too out there, but apparently not. Thanks for reviewing!_

_Slightly shorter than usual, but it's mainly dialogue again, and those always turn out shorter. Oh, and 'Past, Present & Future' now has a front cover – I made it to practice my editing, but it doesn't look half bad, so check out the deviantART link in my profile if you're interested._

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**Plot**

**706 OV, 6 days after Ashe's kidnapping**

"I'm telling you, there's something there."

"Penelo, make sense – they're two of the meanest people I've met! What could _anyone_ possibly see in them?"

Penelo turned to face her friend, sighing. "Vaan, you've got to learn that not everyone can be like you. We've all lost a lot... They just deal with it in different ways."

"Yeah, but-"

Vaan's protest was cut off as Balthier scalded himself for the third time that night. It was also the third time the party had lost their meal thanks to his culinary ineptitude. A collective groan spread around the camp as Fran began to salvage what she could of the ruined stew, but, as this was hardly a novel occurrence by now, the others soon returned to their business.

"Look over there, Vaan," Penelo said, gesturing to where Vossler and Ashe were beginning to make their way over to the camp fire, presumably to help with the clean-up effort. As the two youngsters watched, Ashe stumbled, only to be caught by Vossler's extended arm. The Dalmascans saw how they both paused a moment, Ashe's hand still in Vossler's, eyes meeting.

As the two continued on their way, somewhat reluctantly, Penelo turned to Vaan. "Still believe there's nothing between them?"

"I, er..."

"Thought so. And did you see them yesterday?"

"When? I didn't see anything like that!"

"After we killed that Yensa-"

"You mean the Yensa you ruined?"

"Shut up!" Penelo squeaked, her face going red with embarrassment. "Anyway, after we killed that Yensa, when you were busy throwing your water skin around, she ran up to him and _kissed _him!"

"Seriously? Where?"

"On the cheek. She acted like nothing happened afterwards, but I saw her do it!"

"OK, I'm convinced. But if there's, y'know, something there, how come they aren't official?"

Penelo tore her eyes away from the camp fire, where Ashe seemed to be spending more time berating Balthier on the loss of a meal than cleaning up the mess he'd made, and Vossler was merely watching the spectacle with a small smile on his face. She turned to Vaan, giving him a slightly patronising look.

"You just don't get it, do you? She's a princess. He's a knight. It wouldn't be proper."

"Yeah, but she's not much of a princess now, is she? And the Knights of the Order were dissolved years ago."

Vaan had actually made a good point, for once in his life. Ashe wasn't technically a princess, at least not until she got the Dawn Shard to prove it. And like he had said, the Order was no more – Vossler wasn't really a knight. Before Penelo could think of a response, Vaan spoke again.

"You know what we should do? We should get them together!"

"Vaan. That's a stupid idea."

"It's not! And you said yourself, they're practically married already!"

"I never said tha-"

Vaan interrupted her, waving his grubby finger towards the fire. "Look over there, Penelo."

Over by the sputtering flames, there appeared to have been yet another incident with the boiling water, but this time it was Ashe that had been caught. Though she had not made much of a sound as the liquid scalded her hand, she was making considerably more of a fuss as Balthier tried to apologise, offering up a bandage and a personal treatment of the wound as compensation.

Only when she had succeeded in sending the sky pirate off into a huffy sulk in his and Fran's tent did she turn to Vossler, small tears of pain welling in her eyes as soon as she was sure no one was looking. He cooled and bandaged the injury more gently than Vaan thought possible of him, lingering over tender spots to ensure he was not hurting her.

As Ashe spun around, a new, tougher face on her as she turned to look at the youths, Penelo hastily switched her gaze towards Vaan. "You know," she whispered. "You're actually right, for once."

Vaan beamed as she agreed to take part in his scheming, opening his mouth to set out the first few stages of his plot. Unfortunately, he was forced to close it again as Basch summoned them to the camp to take part in the clean up of what had been the fourth spillage of the night.


	32. Bazaar

_Thanks for reviewing, bluebearsg, though I must admit, I actually have no idea what they're planning! I'll think of something, but I don't know when or what it will be... Oh, and thanks for checking out the cover, too!_

_Not one of my best, I'm afraid. I'm a little pushed for time, but I'll try to get a better one done on Sunday. It's not all bad, mind – there's something of a storyline there._

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**Bazaar**

**705 OV, 5 months after the fall of Dalmasca**

To an outsider, Muthru Bazaar was a terrifying and chaotic place. Tourists and sightseers rarely risked themselves amongst the throngs of cut-purses, burly seeq, and bangaa carrying goods to and fro, and those that did seldom looked back on it as a pleasant experience. The narrow alley was hot, sweaty and awash with questionable characters, but to any native Rabanastran, it was home.

The only place where few Imperial patrols dared to go, Muthru Bazaar was the only place above ground that the residents of the Royal City could unwind for a while. Many a Lowtowner would eschew the guaranteed quality of the East End for the Bazaar when then came to shop, if only to have a brief chat before returning to their dingy homes below ground.

Thanks to the events five months prior, Vossler and Ashe were two such people. Only now, now that Captain Ronsenburg's traitorous turn and the princess's subsequent suicide was old news, had they dared to venture out of Lowtown together, leaving Balzac and the rest of the Resistance to watch over their base.

At first, Vossler had wanted to keep Ashe hidden away in Lowtown for at least a year, if not more. He was still loathe to put her at risk, though he knew she was suffering down there. Her brief excursion to the shops in the South Sprawl two months ago had proven that to him. After all, she was no normal princess. She was not merely content to sit at the sidelines and watch men win her battles for her.

It was then he had decided that, should she wish to visit the streets of Rabanastre, they would go together. His face was not well-known amongst the common-folk, and her appearance had changed most drastically. It was unlikely that anyone would recognise them, he determined, but he would not let her go alone. There were too many soldiers up there.

They would also be travelling under assumed monikers and personae: Ashe would become 'Amalia', a high-born woman, who, like so many others, had been forced out of the family home and into Lowtown. Her father had been an knight, and died at Nalbina, leaving her particularly bitter towards the Empire. The story was not far from the truth, offering a greater chance of recovery should she forget herself.

Vossler would take the part of 'Danar', an ex-officer in the Dalmascan Army. He too was of high birth, and his father had selected 'Amalia' to be his bride before the war. 'Danar' had been taken by sudden malady at the time of Nalbina's fall, then left the army upon learning of its defeat. He too was living in Lowtown, having lost his family home to the Imperials.

Within a few minutes of wandering the streets, the two soon realised that the time spent on shaping their false selves was time wasted. No one paid them even a second glance, and the character histories were soon forgotten. Only the names remained, and even they were mentioned little.

But Ashe was soon to find that the greatest challenge in the paved streets of Rabanastre was not avoiding the attention of the guards, or even the attention of the locals (though admittedly, this _was_ rather difficult, due in part to the vibrant – and painfully short – skirt she wore). For a woman born and raised in an environment where everyone would treat her with the utmost respect, her greatest was learning to deal with the lack of it.

As it would any tourist or sightseer, the Muthru Bazaar frightened her. Though she understood that it was 'safer' than the East End, in terms of the Imperial presence, she was scared of the beefy labourers that loitered on street corners shooting lecherous glances her way, of the children that ran like insects through the crowds, snatching coin pouches and causing mischief.

Thank the gods, then, that she had not decided to go alone. Ashe would have been quite lost in this dirty alley, even more so than she was in Lowtown. Even with Vossler, a fairly intimidating fellow, at her side, men and women alike pushing past her, without care. Not a single one showed any sign of moving to accommodate her.

She supposed she should be thankful that no one recognised her for who she truly was. But, as she clung to Vossler's arm like a small child, terrified to let go, she longed for the respect and sense of propriety she had never really appreciated.


	33. Monsters

_No reviews?_

_More young Ashe this chapter! I do so love writing her – I'm so serious in reality, it's nice to be able to create silly situations for little Ashe to get her and Vossler into._

* * *

**Monsters**

**697 OV, 4 weeks after Ashe's 10th birthday**

Ashe sat up in her bed, shivering despite the heat. Beyond the silken curtains, she could see shadows looming, threatening to engulf her completely. Upon seeing one such shadow appear to lunge towards her, dark claws outstretching, she had to suppress a terrified squeak. She wasn't going to let this get to her.

It was just a stupid story. And the boy who had told it to her was equally stupid. Did he really think she was going to be scared by such childish stories? Ha! She who had stared a Wild Saurian in the eye just over a year ago, let it touch her with those fearsome teeth, and not once made a sound? Stories of a shadow monster were not going to frighten her.

She shook as a torch flickered somewhere in the room, sending the dark shapes cast on her curtains into a mad dance. Suddenly she could see demonic faces leering down at her, eerily similar to the ones the noble's son had described.

_They come at night, when everyone in the palace is asleep_, he'd said. _You'll know when they're coming, because you'll be cold, even though it's hot in the desert. _Ashe drew her sheets further up her body, trying to block out the chill. Surely it was all just a coincidence. There couldn't be any truth to the story. Could there?

_You see their shadows first. They move around your bed, sniffing you out. They only like girls, you see. _When Ashe had asked how the boy knew all this, and yet was still here, he had said that they had come to his bed, but realised he was a boy and gone after his sister. There was no such thing as shadow monsters that only hunted girls, she was sure of it. And yet...

_Next, you hear their bellies rumbling. They're hungry... _As if on cue, a low rumbling noise started in the room, un-nerving Ashe yet further. It's just a story, she repeated to herself. Just a story.

_And then... They grab you!_ She involuntarily let out a loud squeak as one of the shadows swung towards her, and buried her head under the covers.

Within an instant, the room was flooded with light, the magicite-powered lanterns switching on as one. The rumbling noise came to an abrupt halt as someone snorted awake, a chair clattering to the floor somewhere beyond the curtains. From her safe haven under the bedclothes, Ashe could hear heavy boots hitting the marble floor of her bedroom, hear a gauntleted hand go to a sword hilt. She slid down yet further under the covers.

On the other side of the curtain, Vossler staggered to his feet, bleary-eyed and berating himself for falling asleep. The overturned chair he had been dozing on forgotten for the time being, he pulled back the cloth barrier between him and the young princess, praying he was not too late.

He breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes rested on the quivering lump in the middle of the bed. Looking around the room, there seemed to be no sign of any disturbance, and he let his sword arm drop to his side. As he did so, his charge's grey eyes peeked above the top of the sheets, filled with some irrational fear.

"Are they gone?" she asked, a noticeable strain to her voice.

"Have what gone?"

"The shadow monsters! Someone told me about them today – they eat girls like me, and they were here tonight!"

Vossler had to force himself not to laugh as the young princess sat there, clutching a chocobo doll so hard that, had it been real, she would have surely choked it to death by now. It was a strange sight indeed, to see the normally fearless princess so utterly afraid of a fictional monster.

"OK," he smiled, trying to reassure the petrified girl. "I'm sure there's no such thing as shadow monsters, but I'll check around, just in case."

"No!" she squealed, grabbing at his arm. "What if they get you?!"

Vossler looked back at her, noting how her expression had changed from one of fear to that of concern. "Do not worry," he said, "I'm not a girl: they will not eat me."

With that, he made a great show of checking everywhere in Ashe's grand bed chamber, even going so far as to quietly check the surrounding hallways and balcony. Once he was quite sure that Ashe was assured of her safety, he righted his chair and sat back down, bidding her goodnight as he did so.


	34. Dreams

_Thanks for reviewing, bluebearsg! I thought I'd gone off on a bit of a tangent, but I'm glad you liked the description._

_I apologise for the slight incredible weirdness of this chapter. But I had to get it out, lest it torment me forever by playing over and over again in my mind._

* * *

**Dreams**

**4 days after the signing of treaties between the free nations**

Late at night, within the cavernous and largely empty palace, the Queen Ashe tossed and turned in her bed. This was nothing new: the last few days of reminiscence had brought many a painful memory rushing back, bringing with them particularly vivid dreams.

Tonight, a familiar scene played out before her. Hovering somewhere above the nine or so people that walking slowly towards an exposed platform, Ashe saw her former self stalk away from an armoured figure, ignoring the guilt-filled gaze that lingered after her.

As the viera Fran was driven into a Mist frenzy, the dream's point of view suddenly switched. Without warning, Ashe found herself looking through Vossler's eyes, thinking Vossler's thoughts.

"_No farther!" I hear myself say. "Sky pirates! The future of Dalmasca will not be stolen!"_

_I ready my sword, but it is not to bear it against you. It is to bear it against those who would steal you. Pirate. For two years now, I have fought for your cause. And after everything, you still picked him. You are too quick to trust – you do not know his kind._

"_Why do this Basch?" I deliberately avoid your gaze. Such hatred... I could not bear it. "This struggle is futile. You must know where it leads!" _

_I know. The two years we spent gathering a Resistance, planning our attack... What did it earn us? A hundred deaths on our conscience. We could spend another twenty years preparing another strike, but the result would be the same. Dalmasca is no match for the martial might of the Empire._

"_I do know. All too well." Do you, Basch? We, as the Knights of the Order, fought against the Empire's treaty. And where did it lead us? You, a disgraced knight, a traitor amongst all people, locked away in Nalbina for two years. How can you hope to succeed now?_

_There is to be no reasoning with you, Ashe, I see that now. I see your rage, your pent-up fury. If you had your way, this would be a fight to the death. Even as Basch and I stare each other down, each of us unwilling to initiate what is like to be my last battle, you are not content to wait with the others. You force my former friend out of the way, sword drawn, demanding that I be yours and yours alone. _

_Even the blood-crazed viera is quieted by your anger, making only the slightest of effort to break her wretched partner's grip. Would that I could just fight him instead, rather than the torture you seem insistent on putting me through._

_I will not strike you. You know that, and perhaps fight all the fiercer for it. You keep my gaze, fire burning in your grey eyes, shining through the tears. Tears of anger. Frustration. Every foul emotion you've kept bottled up since the day Rasler died is spilling out of you, with every clash of blades, every spray of sparks as metal hits metal. _

_Such passion. You always did fight with your heart. But passion alone will not win you a fight, as I have often told you. Don't burn yourself out. Fight with precision. It's only been a few minutes, and you're already tiring. I pray you see sense now, and bring an end to this needless conflict._

_Alas, it is not to be. You continue to battle through your fatigue, and I too begin to weary. My heart is not in this fight. With every smash of our weapons, barriers break down. Your public façade is the first thing to go. As I catch yet another desperate strike, I see your face for the briefest of moments, tears mixing with sweat as they roll down your face. But then we break away, and you swing defiantly for my body again._

_By now, sweat is pouring down my face too, and my sword arm grows tired. It is sheer luck that I managed to disarm you – you have progressed a lot since last we sparred. But the loss of your weapon does not seem to faze you. Your initial shock lasts only a second, before you take up a fighting stance, fists at the ready._

_Despite everything, I am still a knight at heart, and I will not face an unarmed opponent with a blade. If I had my way, I would not face you at all, but I will not deny you this. I toss my sword to the ground, and reluctantly ready myself. I still will not strike you._

_Your blows rain down on my armour, though I suspect you are doing more damage to yourself than you are to me. Within seconds your knuckles are bloody and raw from the metal plate. How many times have I bound such an injury for you? How I long to do the same now._

_You are on the last of your strength now, and I am no different. As you make sure every weary swing hits its mark, and I bear the brunt of your ire, the sky pirates seem to fade away. The captain and the children disappear. It is just us now. Nothing else makes sense. Nothing but this pointless battle._

_With one last swing, your fatigued body finally gives in, and you collapse forwards, towards me. I catch you, as I did on the LEVIATHAN. As I would anywhere. There is still some defiance in you as you raise your gaze to lock eyes with me, but every rational part of our minds has long since shut down. And, for a reason I cannot comprehend, I kiss you._

_And time stops._

In her dream, Ashe's view of the scene pans away, and she returns to her position above. There she sees them, herself and Vossler, locked together in a strange embrace. The rest of her companions look on, incredulous.

As she felt herself waking, Ashe could not help but ponder. What was this? Some twisted snapshot into what could have been, sent by the vengeful gods to torment her? Or a reflection of her own hidden wishes for how that fateful event might have turned out?


	35. Sandstorm

_Sorry this is late... It's weird, but it seems that I have less time for fan fiction when I have more free time. This does not make sense. But still it happens. Anyway..._

_Hmm. I'm not sure if I like this. Turns out my idea wasn't as good as I thought it was. Still, I reckon I made the best of what I had. And somehow, it's longer than most of the ones where I actually had a clear idea of where they were going. Strange. _

* * *

**Sandstorm**

**705 OV, 17 months after the fall of Dalmasca**

Vossler had sworn to himself that the Resistance would not train in the Westersand any more. Not after Ashe's 'incident' with the Urstrix. He had sworn that he would never expose her to such danger again. And yet here he was, deep in the Midfault, with a sandstorm brewing on the horizon. Once again, he had let the princess sway his better judgement.

She had insisted that she had learnt a lot from her encounter. She had insisted that she had improved to the point that she could face the Westersand again. He could never argue with her logic – she'd gone so far as to actually demonstrate her new-found capabilities in a sparring match, and he had to admit, she had gotten better. So it was that he found himself watching over a party of new recruits in the desert, Ashe amongst them. He could only pray the weather held out.

As if on cue, the winds took on a sudden violence, whipping up grain of sand to buffet the small group of trainee rebels. Within seconds, the storm had grown so intense that even the Wolves that Vossler's team was fighting had become naught but hazy silhouettes. There was no use persisting in this folly. Barking an order to the men and women under his command, Vossler's voice was lost to the wind, the dust catching in his throat as he struggled to be heard.

Realising that his efforts were in vain, he made a beeline to the clearing where Ashe stood, squinting through the swirling sands. Her stance was defiant, sending an obvious message to the handful of people still in her field of vision: she was not about to let such a trivial thing as the weather bother her. She did not even turn to look as Vossler reached the group, focusing instead on finishing off her chosen prey. So, she had improved.

"It's too dangerous to remain – we leave at once! Carry the message to the others!"

A resounding "Aye!" cut through the raging of the winds, and the Resistance members sheathed their weapons, each turning to run the order to a different party. Ashe too made to leave, but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. He opened his mouth to explain, but she saved him the trouble of wasting his breath with a simple nod. And so they fled together, her hand in his so that they did not lose each other in the storm.

It should have been a simple matter to return to the relative safety of the city walls. There was little to stand in their path, and, even with their visual navigation skills severely impaired, the route to Rabanastre was a simple one. Just keep heading east, and you'd eventually get there. But Vossler and Ashe would not make it to the Royal City before the day was out.

Their unfortunate run-in with the area's infamous Gnoma Entite saw to that. Worshipped as a symbol of the gods' fury, brought about as a result of man's ability to make war out of even such a simple thing as cultivated earth, the local people had ever been wary of these mysterious and powerful beings. Vossler was no exception; he slowed to a snail's pace upon seeing the creature loom out of the raging sands, careful not to bely any signs of aggression.

Ashe however, had apparently not been taught this lore during her lengthy sessions with Master Winnbagg in the palace. Her casting of a simple Cure spell, innocent in its premises, would be the trigger that set this ancient beast upon the two otherwise unremarkable humes.

He didn't even have time to stop her. The slight increase of Mist concentration as Ashe began to charge the spell was enough to send the Entite into a white-hot rage, and a whirlwind of powerful magicks rushed past the pair. It was sheer luck that kept them out of harm's way as they fled, tearing across the dunes at a speed that would rival that of a chocobo.

Sheer luck also played a part in their eventual salvation. Disorientated as they were, it could have been many hours before the two found a suitable hiding place to seek shelter from the storm, both of sand and magicks. As it was, they had been sprinting for only a few minutes, desperately trying to put some distance between them and the Entite, before sliding into a small alcove protected by a conveniently placed rock formation.

The hole in the cliff face was barely large enough for one, let alone two. It was a wonder that Vossler's bulky frame had even managed to squeeze through the opening. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, the small recess was strangely calm. The barrage of Mist and weather still persisted on the outside, but within the alcove the air was quiet, still.

It was a world all to itself. There was no roaring winds to yell over, no potentially hidden ears to listen in on every word. It was in this bizarre peace that Vossler and Ashe let go of their unwritten codes of silence, and finally talked as they had once do so freely.

It was a strange thing indeed – a fallen princess and her devoted bodyguard, speaking with the intimacy that only the closest of friends can, and taking shelter in a cramped desert warren. One would expect such closeness to be uncomfortable, or at least awkward for two people in such roles, but somehow, in this isolated place, it was not so.


	36. Gifts

_Thanks for reviewing, bluebearsg! Glad you liked the chapter Oh, and a Merry Christmas to whoever happens to be reading!_

_Yeah, since it's Christmas, I decided to do a sort of Christmas-themed chapter today. It's up early because I'm taking a break over Christmas, but I'll be back for Sunday's update._

* * *

**Gifts**

**703 OV, New Year's Day**

It was not yet even eight hours into the new year, but Ashe fidgeted impatiently on the edge of her bed. It was not the anticipation of the presents she would receive to celebrate the occasion; she was fifteen now, and well accustomed to the gifts her father and the upper echelons of society would provide for her. Such things no longer held her interest.

No, the reason she always looked forward to New Year's Day was far simpler than that. Every year, the servants and nobles would abandon the palace, her father visiting her for the briefest of times in the morning before turning back to his royal duties. The only one who would remain with her was Vossler, thereby allowing her to spend the whole day with him – an occurrence that was quickly becoming more and more of a rarity as time moved on.

Ashe had known Vossler for over six years now, but she had never thought to ask him why it was that he remained at the palace over the holidays. She was merely content with the fact that there were some things that he'd rather not share, and she wasn't about to force him. The last thing she wanted was to drive him away at such a time.

In truth, Vossler would have told her, had she asked. She was old enough to understand the death of his family during the plague, and now there was a far baser reason why he chose to remain. He enjoyed spending time with her, and, as she herself had lamented, various other duties had reduced the time they spent in each other's company far more than they would have liked.

But it would not do to dwell on such things now. Who knew what the new year would bring? They had to make the most of the time they had. No surprise then, that, upon seeing the doorknob turn, Ashe sprung to her feet, ready to greet the man about to enter.

"Happy New Year!"

The two uttered the greeting simultaneously, stopping to smile at the other as they realised what had happened. Vossler entered the room, but, no sooner than he did so, the clock on the wall chimed eight. King Raminas would be arriving soon, bearing gifts and the usual New Years greetings for his only daughter.

Sure enough, the King appeared in the hallway, and met with Ashe. As per usual, Vossler stood at a respectful distance, managing only a brief acknowledgement as Ashe reminded her father to greet Vossler too. This was his sixth New Year with them, and he still wasn't comfortable with the King. But it was enough for both Raminas and his daughter, and the former soon left to attend to his tasks.

It had become something of a holiday tradition for Vossler and Ashe to spend the day in her favourite garden. Even in the winter, Dalmasca was warm enough during the day to sit outside with little fear of catching a chill. The hours after the sun had gone down were another matter altogether, and were hours best spent sat around the fire in Ashe's chambers, but for now the pair made their way through the empty corridors of the palace in companionable silence.

Upon reaching the garden and settling herself on the fountain, Ashe turned to her bodyguard.

"So... What did you get me this year?"

Vossler couldn't help but smile at her sudden enthusiasm. It was so very different to the detached nature she had held whilst unwrapping her other presents. He suspected she had long since seen her share of dresses and finery, and merely longed for something different, but he was flattered, nonetheless. Leaning closer to her, he said:

"Well, don't tell your father, but..."

He produced a neatly wrapped package from one of the myriad pouches on his belt, handing it to her. Suddenly curious, Ashe tore off the thin layers of wrapping paper, uncovering a thick leather-bound tome within. _'A Comprehensive Guide To Cure'_, read the cover, revealing the book's purpose as a grimoire of magick.

Ashe gave a barely contained squeak, throwing her arms around Vossler's neck. She had been begging her father to allow her to learn the ways of white magick for most of the year, but he had always declined. The issue had been the subject of many arguments, but she never would have thought that Vossler, of all people, would be the one to resolve it. There was just one thing missing...

"Thank you! But... I'm not even licensed yet."

"Look inside the front cover."

Doing so, Ashe found a folded piece of paper tucked into the inner cover of the book. Smoothing it out, she read. "_This hereby certifies that one Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca is permitted to use level one white magicks, namely the spells Cure and Poisona._" The official seal of the license office was stamped below the message, proving it's validity.

It had cost Vossler a good many hours and a fair amount of gil to find an office willing to license an as yet unproven mage. Even then, it had taken much haggling to convince the clerk that he could speak for another, though he had found that the princess's influence held a great deal of sway. Nonetheless, as he sat in that garden with said princess clinging to his neck, he knew it had all been worth it.

Breaking away rather abruptly, Ashe leapt from her perch on the fountain, suddenly inspired by some unknown thought. Vossler watched in bemusement as she struggled with the base of the water feature, eventually pulling free a drawer set into the stone.

"Here!" she said, pulling out a long package. "I got you something too!"

This was unheard of. A princess does not give gifts, only receives them. Truth be told, Ashe had always felt guilty whenever Vossler gave her a gift, whether it be her birthday or New Year's. She knew he had little money to spare (though of course, he'd never admit this), but he always had something for her. And yet, for all her wealth, she never had anything for him. She didn't even know when his birthday was.

So it was that she peered at him as he removed the wrapping paper. Would he like it? She was sure he would, but she couldn't stop the feelings of doubt in her mind. The pattern wasn't too feminine, was it? The smith had said it was a good job, but had he been lying to her? She didn't know anything about forging, it would have been easy to fool her.

She needn't have worried. The great-sword she had bought was indeed a good job, and Vossler could tell that from a glance. The patterning was elegant, but not too extravagant, and the twists in the metal would serve to strengthen the blade. It was the perfect weapon – handsome, but not so fine that he would not see it sullied in battle.

"Do you like it?"

Vossler looked up from his inspections to see Ashe's slightly worried face staring down at him. Before he could reply, she spoke again.

"Will you use it?"

"I shall never be without it," he answered with an awkward smile. He had always found it difficult to express gratitude, especially where a simple 'thank you' would not suffice. "What's its name?"

"Nightmare." Ashe said, relief slipping over her features. "A suitably fearsome name, don't you think?"


	37. Cooking

_As always, thanks to bluebearsg for reviewing, and I'd also like to thank CFair-Valentine for adding this to their story alerts. _

_Massive writer's block for this one, but I pulled through. Damn Assassin's Creed II, dominating my thoughts. Anyway, enjoy._

* * *

**Cooking**

**706 OV, 7 days after Ashe's kidnapping**

"OK, who's turn is it tonight?"

Ashe stood in front of the camp-fire, forcing the small assembly of people before her to look up. The Sandsea was not a pleasant place to be at the best of times, what with the dust and constant assaults from the indigenous peoples, and the long days spent on the road were beginning to wear at her nerves. She was definitely not in the mood to be arguing over whose turn it was to cook.

"Don't look at me, princess. I've done my part."

Balthier was the first to speak, as always. Ashe's eyes narrowed as he did so; the party had all but gone hungry the previous night thanks to the sky pirate 'doing his part', as he put it. There were times she wondered why she had chosen him, of all people, to escape with.

"I too, have done enough."

"As have I."

Fran and Basch joined the discussion, each equally eager to avoid the chore of preparing the group's meal. But they spoke the truth. Both of them had taken their turn, on the third and first days of travel respectively. Sighing irritably, Ashe cast her eyes over the men and women before her once again. If she had counted correctly, they had been in the desert for seven days now. There were seven people in their party. Who was left?

With a sinking feeling, Ashe realised that the deed fell to her. She, who had no knowledge and less experience in the culinary arts. This had the potential to be disastrous – considering the grief she had given Balthier for his own lack of skill... No. She wasn't about to lose face in front of him. If there was a way to avoid cooking tonight, she was going to take it.

"Oh, for the gods' sakes, could someone just make us something to eat?"

Silence. Only then does a small voice pipe up.

"Er... I'll do it."

The camp's heads turned as one toward the pigtailed Dalmascan, many an eye widening in horror. The one night that they'd had meat, and Yensa meat at that, Penelo had somehow managed to turn it into something that was somehow less palatable than the scraps of dried Bagoly Vaan occasionally filched from an Urutan. Though they were mostly too polite to say so, no one really wanted to experience the young Dalmascan's 'unique' cooking style again.

Then again, no one really wanted to cook either. So it was that, after a few minutes of organising the few morsels of food they had managed to collect during the day's trek, Penelo set to work over the camp-fire, Vaan at her side, whilst everyone else busied themselves with other tasks of varying importance.

"What you making?"

Penelo was only mildly surprised to see her friend peering over her shoulder.

"Nothing special," she replied. "We haven't got a lot, so it's just a stew. It's nearly done now, but the thing is, it's mainly water. I hope it'll be OK..."

"Uh-huh. And what's in that bottle?"

"What, this?" Penelo sounded surprised, and sub-consciously tried to hide the small vial behind her back. "If you must know..." She leant forward conspiratorially. "It's an aphrodisiac. I was going to put it in Vossler and Ashe's portions."

"Oh, I get it! As part of the Plot, right?"

"Mm-hmm."

As he turned to wander away, something suddenly occurred to Vaan. "Hey, wait a minute! Why do you even have an aphrodi-"

Going red, Penelo hurriedly interrupted his query with a rapid beating of her spoon on the side of the serving bowl. "Dinner's ready!"

The other members of the party did not approach with the enthusiasm that one might expect from people who had barely eaten throughout the day, save for the potions they'd consumed. Instead, they seemed to delay receiving their serving for as long as possible, and the sight of the runny brown mess that was on offer was enough to elicit a groan from Balthier.

Fran sniffed her bowl cautiously before settling herself next to her partner, and did not look all that satisfied before she took her first experimental sip. She continued to pick at the stew as she ate, occasionally setting her own meal down to force some of Balthier's down his throat. She would not have him starve.

Basch was the opposite to her, opting to down his bowlful in one gulp, praying that the taste would not linger. He had often thought the paltry meals he was given in Nalbina were the worst the world had to offer. Apparently not. Whilst one can get used to prison food, he doubted that he'd ever be able to get used to Penelo's food.

Across the camp-fire, Vossler and Ashe sat apart from the sky pirates, if only because Ashe did not have the energy to maintain the peace between Vossler and Balthier. The former was more on edge than usual thanks to a suggestive comment made earlier, and she had no desire to see blood shed tonight. Much as Vossler liked to deny it, she still needed the support the pirate provided.

He'd forget about the remark soon enough. Perhaps he already had. For now, Vossler seemed to be transfixed by his serving of stew, staring at the watery mixture with apprehension. Ashe couldn't blame him – the last time he'd eaten one of Penelo's meals he'd spent the whole night in the bushes. She remembered how she had woken in a panic upon realising he wasn't beside her in the tent, only to have him slip in and explain that he had simply been 'cleansing his system', as he put it.

After such an occurrence, Ashe too was wary. She had been fortunate enough to avoid much of the previous meal, having traded most of hers with Vossler for one of the few remaining Succulent Fruits. She was sure that was a deal he regretted. There was no way she could expect him to go through the same again, no matter how repulsive tonight's meal appeared to be.

"Eat it, Ashe. You need your strength."

"Only if you eat it too."

"I... suppose I must."

Exchanging grim smiles, the two drained their bowls simultaneously.

It was only after a few hours had passed that the food began to take effect. As the party huddled around the remains of the fire, trying to absorb the last bit of heat from the glowing embers before turning in for the night, both Vossler and Ashe felt a churning in their stomachs. Vaan and Penelo watched as the pair excused themselves and left the camp together.

"Do you think the aphrodisiac worked?"


	38. Resistance

_Thanks for reviewing, bluebearsg! Oh, and sorry this is a tad late... New Year's and all that got in the way. Speaking of which, Happy 2010 everyone!_

_Not a lot to say about this one. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing._

* * *

**Resistance**

**706 OV, 1 week since the events aboard the _SHIVA_**

"News, everyone!"

A dozen heads turned to the door, twelve pairs of eyes seeking the source of the sudden noise. This sorry group of men and women was all that remained of the Rabanastre cell. They had once been proud, numbering well over a hundred, but most had been lost during the disaster of the palace assault. Yet more had disappeared as the weeks wore on, leaving only empty mats behind. Those still sitting in the Lowtown stronghold were the most dedicated to their cause, but even their resolve had begun to waver.

It had been weeks since they'd last heard of their leader. Vossler had departed quietly in the middle of the night some time ago, not saying a word to any of his men. There had been much speculation over whether he was the traitor in their midst, and indeed, the rumour had never disappeared completely. Balzac had revealed to them 'Amalia's' true identity, but few believed it. As the Ring Wyrm continued to rage in their training grounds and the soldiers began to stagnate, the theories had only grew more outlandish.

Some still held hope for Vossler's return, though their optimism had begun to waver somewhat over the last few days. To others, he had already betrayed them to the Empire, who were marching towards their base at this very moment. Yet not one of them could begun to fathom the truth of it.

In her anger, Ashe had not thought to return to her old comrades. Had she done so, the remnants of the Resistance would not be pondering the fate of their leader. Or perhaps they would – Vossler had always seemed invincible to them, and there were those among them who would refuse to believe that he was gone. Even more would refuse to believe that he had done what he had done. Whilst they occasionally had reason to doubt his decisions, not a single one among them could doubt his loyalty to Dalmasca.

In the doorway, Balzac looked over the haggard assembly of people before him. He knew not how they would react to his news, and had no desire to lose the few that had remained.

"The Ring Wyrm has fallen to a hunter's blade."

A half-hearted cheer rang through the crowd. Training was tough, but it was far preferable to sitting around doing nothing. Most of those still left were hardy people, determined to go out with a fight. It did not suit them, this hiding in the shadows. Better to die a hero on the battlefield than a terrified rabbit in a hole.

Some began to shuffle to their feet, rough and callused hands reaching for forgotten weapons. Balzac held up his hand to stop them. They had not yet heard the entirety of his piece.

"We go not to train. Marquis Ondore has summoned the Resistance to Bhujerba: there we form a fleet and prepare for battle against the Empire."

Fierce fighters they may be, but few of the Resistance members were particularly enthused about their stand-in commander's proposal. Every one of them wanted to fight, this was true, but the Imperial Fleets were renowned across all of Ivalice. It didn't matter how big the Resistance was. If they went up against the _ALEXANDER _or the _IFRIT_, they stood little choice of coming out alive.

But they were already committed to their fate. After spending the last few weeks debating Vossler's desertion as an act of cowardice, the dirty, battle-scarred troops were in no mind to do the same. They had lived for Dalmasca, fought for Dalmasca... Now they would die for Dalmasca.

"The _GARLAND_ waits in the aerodrome, for those who would join the Marquis." As he spoke, Balzac knew that they would follow him. He could see the determined resignation in their eyes. "We depart at sunset. If you wish to remain here, I will not hold it against you."

He knew full well that not one of them would bear such a shame. It was a remarkable transformation, really. Only two years ago these people were little more than sell-swords, with little coin and fewer morals. Now, they were equivalent to the Knights of the Order themselves. They would do Vossler's memory proud.

As the party of freedom fighters made their own ways to the airship that would see them to Ondore's forces, one of the younger members quickened his step to match Balzac.

"Balzac, sir, what become of Captain Vossler?"

Balzac stopped suddenly, causing a seeq behind him to plough into him. The porcine fellow grumbled irritably at him, before continuing on his way. After ensuring that no one was watching, Balzac turned to the man who had addressed him. He could not help but note how young he was. Barely older than the boy who had brought down the Ring Wyrm.

"Captain Vossler is dead." There was no use in sugar-coating the facts for the lad. It was better he become accustomed to death, for Balzac feared the Resistance would be facing a lot of it in the months to come.

The young soldier was stunned, his eyes widening as he replied. "Dead? But Captain Vossler..."

"Was a hume man, just like any one of us. He died a good death, or so Basch tells me. He died for the sake of the one thing he loved most."

"Dalmasca..."

Balzac nodded as the boy went on his way, watching him disappear into the crowd. Yes, Vossler did die for Dalmasca. But he did not die solely for the country.


	39. Memories

_I'm sorry I'm late again... It's deadline week, and reality keeps getting in the way. But I'll try to get Thursday's done on time. If I don't have more work to do._

_I don't particularly like the first half of this, but I'm quite happy with the second half. I just wish the game gave more hints as to how memstone works. All it says is that it's a type of magicite that can store visions or sound._

* * *

**Memories**

**707 OV, 5 days after the signing of treaties between the free nations**

The harsh desert sun streamed through the open windows, burning through Ashe's eyelids and forcing her awake. In some ways, she was glad for it – the night had been plagued by yet more tormenting visions, and the drudgery of her daily life kept her mind firmly focused on other matters.

But not today. After all the drama of the previous week, having dealt with various dignitaries from all the free nations, the royal advisers had suggested that the young Queen take a rest. At the time, she was more than happy to oblige, but now she only wanted respite from the dreams looping continuously in her mind. As Ashe swung her legs out of the bed, she shook her head, desperately trying to clear it. No such luck. But no matter. She would occupy herself somehow.

As if on cue, an eager young servant trotted into her room, carrying an array of silver platters filled with a multitude of breakfast foods. Even the simple task of eating would distract her from the events of the previous night. Bearing this in mind, she selected a wide range of foodstuffs, ignoring the barely-disguised look of incredulity on the servant's face. So, maybe it was a lot of food for one woman, but what did it matter? Why bring a feast if you don't expect it to be eaten?

But the simple indulgence of eating was not enough to capture Ashe's interests for long. She chewed absent-mindedly on a piece of star fruit, her mind flitting back to her dreams. If only she could figure out the meaning behind it, if indeed there was one. She was sure that would put her at ease.

Ashe did not have much time to contemplate before yet another servant entered her chambers. She moved to shoo the intruder, but stopped upon seeing the maid's face. Kana was one of the few people in the palace she could actually stand, and she much appreciated the girl's efforts to preserve Ashe's privacy whilst cleaning the rooms.

"I found this whilst tidying your old chambers, milady. Seems the Imperials didn't get everything when they took over. I though you might like to have a look, if you're not busy..."

Kana presented a small trunk, gingerly setting it down beside Ashe's bed. Ashe thanked her, handing the unfinished breakfast tray over in return. The maid left without a word, leaving Ashe in peace again.

Turning to the trunk, Ashe recognised it immediately. The gold inlay and ornate clasp revealed it to be her keepsake box from her younger years, filled with trinkets of all sorts. Perhaps this was the distraction she had been looking for all morning. With a small smile, Ashe settled herself onto her bed, the little chest open in her lap.

The first thing that caught her eye was a small piece of memstone, the tag wrapped around it identifying the magicite as a record of her many visits to Bhujerba. She remembered it now. Her uncle had given it to her when she was only nine, so that she may remember her younger years.

The first image was innocent enough. Ashe recognised herself as a young girl, standing with her uncle Halim. Part of her father's arm was also clearly visible; she would recognise those robes anywhere. The tell-tale armour of a Dalmascan soldier told her that Vossler was there too. A group photo. Even if the photographer was somewhat incompetent.

The next picture depicted a smiling Ashe looking back as she raced through the streets, about to run headlong into a pair of Sainikah guards. She had been so carefree back then. Her mind was filled with naught but trivial things. She had not yet known loss, or grief. They were the simple years, before everything started to get complicated.

Sliding her thumb over the stone to change the image, Ashe saw herself, barely older than eleven, standing precariously on the very edge of the Khus Skygrounds. A nervous Vossler hovered in the background, standing just close enough that he could catch her if she started to slip. As far as she knew, she never had done, but he had always been concerned for her safety.

Ashe skipped over her twelfth year, which merely contained more of the same, and her thirteenth year, of which there were no pictures to speak of, the speeding images finally settling on a picture of a blushing fourteen-year-old Ashe being handed a small gift by Vossler. A late birthday present, if she recalled correctly. Gods, she'd been so stupid then. She remembered the crush she'd had on him. It was so irrational.

Suddenly embarrassed by her past self, Ashe moved hastily on, sliding the memstone forward to when she was fifteen. Here she found a rare image, one in which both she and Vossler were actually smiling. And in the presence of her father, no less. It was impossible to tell what had garnered such a reaction from the vision, but Ashe knew that it must have been something of epic proportions to get that soldier to smile in front of the King.

Smiling slightly herself, Ashe moved her thumb over the stone again. Nothing happened. It seemed that this happy picture was the last one she had of her years as both a child and a teenager. It fit those years perfectly, she thought. Just her, her father, and Vossler, free of the strife that would face them all in the near future. Just her, her father and Vossler, happy and smiling.


	40. Camaraderie

_Chapter 40! And to think, when I started out, I didn't think this would last past 5 chapters..._

_I have no idea why this is so short. It seemed longer when I was writing it, I swear. It's always the ones I have a plan for that end up short, for some reason..._

* * *

**Camaraderie**

**704 OV, 13 days before Ashe's marriage to Rasler**

Vossler swung his sword at the various target areas of the training dummy, sinking his blade into the soft cloth body. It was no use. His heart simply wasn't in it any more. With a sigh, he removed his weapon from where it was embedded into the target, moving away as the next man took up stance.

There had been a time, eight or so years ago, when he had been the most focused and determined soldier in the barracks. Even Basch could not match him. He had lived for his training – there was nothing else left in his life. Thus, he had excelled, earning his promotion to knight captain within a matter of years.

So where was that drive now? Perhaps it was simply a matter of age: he had to admit, he was no longer a young man in his twenties. And yet Basch, who was only two years his junior, did not seem to have undergone this change. If anything, his fervour seemed to increase as the war wore on.

"Back from your royal visit, then?"

The harsh sound of Rishal's voice snapped Vossler out of his thoughts. His bangaa comrade tossed him a blunted sword before striding confidently into the practice ring and taking up stance, beckoning with his empty hand.

"Let's see if the years looking after our lady haven't softened you up – to arms!"

Vossler smiled faintly, taking his place at the opposite end of the arena. Time to see if he really had lost his edge over the years. He stiffened as he saluted, feeling again the rush that accompanied his sparring matches. He had lived for this. It had been his life.

And yet the clash of steel on steel no longer gave him such satisfaction. The adrenaline still flowed, but it did not have the same effect on him. Perhaps it was his partner. Rishal was a powerful opponent, but not one given to considering the finer points of combat. As such, Vossler defeated him easily, but took little joy in his victory.

"Bah! I'll get you one day, Azelas!"

The bangaa picked himself out the dust, feigning hurt as he pushed past Vossler. Basch, who had been standing on the sidelines, took his place, retrieving the dull sword from its resting place in the centre of the ring. Two small gaggles of young recruits had soon gathered around the perimeter, clearly divided into those under Basch's command and those under Vossler's.

The two knights saluted each other, taking up position. A hush fell over the crowd of spectators as Vossler and Basch locked eyes, circling as each waited for the other to make the first move. Only when the first successful parry of the bout rung out did the men begin to shout, cheering on their captains and making bets with the other side,

The combatants were equally matched, or so it seemed, but Basch began to gain the upper hand after five furious minutes. However, upon seeing the passionate faces of Vossler's supporters, he abruptly ended the match, calling a draw. The somewhat disappointed crowds dissipated, leaving the captains to discard their weapons and begin the long walk towards the shower block.

"You're half the knight you once were, Vossler," Basch began, clapping his old friend on the shoulder. "There was a time when you would have disarmed me within a minute."

"Aye. I fear the lack of practice has rendered me somewhat less able."

"Perhaps. There was a time when your sole purpose in life was to win in the training ring. It did wonders for your career, but times have changed, no?"

Once again, Basch had shown considerable insight into Vossler's situation. He was right, times had changed. He no longer lived for the fight. He lived for something far more important than that.


	41. Confidante

_Thanks for reviewing, bluebearsg! Sorry I'm late again, but there's really too much going on right now. I hate not having time to write..._

_I'll admit something here – this chapter was partially inspired by the song 'Señor'. Do not ask how. My mind works in weird ways. Anyway, I am not happy with the length of this. I really thought it would turn out longer. And the ending is terrible. But I suppose it'll do._

* * *

**Confidante**

**706 OV, 3 days after the assault on the palace**

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

Vossler's gaze did not shift from the wall he was staring at, his eyes focused on anything but his second-in-command. He had been acting strangely ever since Basch had made his continued existence known the previous day. The other Resistance members likely thought his mood the result of seeing his former friend alive once more, but Balzac knew better.

Ever since Amalia had been lost amidst the chaos at the palace, Vossler had been like to a caged animal; restless, but with nowhere to go. Balzac had often seen him take up his sword and move towards the door, only to stop and sit back down as the rational part of him kicked in. Just like an animal, hitting the bars of his cage.

But the King-Slayer's visit had changed everything. Perhaps it was Basch's refusal to back down, regardless of the hand the world had dealt him. Whatever it was, something had broken the bars of Vossler's cage. The next time he took up his sword, he wouldn't stop at the door. Chances were, he probably wouldn't be coming back.

"Do you go to free her?"

Balzac already knew the answer. It didn't matter how many Imperials were holding her, or how unlikely it was that he'd be able to infiltrate the _LEVIATHAN _and escape with his life. Vossler was a determined man, and such trivial things were unlikely to stop him. It was this determination that had seen him make such a good leader for the Resistance, and would see Amalia freed from Imperial chains.

Still, Balzac considered his commander's decision to be a poor one. Vossler had said it himself when confronted by Basch. He held men's lives in his hands. The Resistance was frail, barely remaining intact – Vossler was the one thing keeping this de-moralised band of rebels together. It would be foolish to throw them away for the sake of one woman.

"I do. I know you think me foolish, Balzac, but..."

The former vagrant could not comprehend his captain's reasoning. He understood Vossler's devotion to Amalia. That much was apparent to anyone who had spent any considerable amount of time with the man. And it was true that Amalia was perhaps the most dedicated to the Resistance's cause. But besides her close relationship with Vossler, he could see no explanation as to why the captain intended to chance both his own life and that of the Resistance to save her.

"Balzac."

"Captain?"

"I am aware that there is a possibility that I may not return. I want you to take command in my stead."

There would be no stopping him now. This was not an act of mere recklessness – Vossler was not given to such things. He had thought this through, considered the risks, the consequences... He knew what damage he would cause to the Resistance, to their cause. And he still wanted to leave. Those Imperials didn't stand a chance against such a man.

Vossler picked up his sword, slinging it across his back. He made for the door, pausing for only a moment before raising his arm to open it.

"Why?"

Vossler turned, his hand still resting on the door handle. "Balzac?"

"Why go?"

"Because I have no choice."

The former knight turned to leave the safe house once more, but paused again at the doorway. "One more thing, should I fail to come back."

"Sir?"

"Do not tell the other members, but know this. Amalia is Ashe."

With that, Vossler turned and strode out into the dingy streets of Lowtown, leaving only a dumbfounded Balzac behind. He did not think this simple fact would be enough to convince his second-in-command that he departed on anything but a fool's errand, nor did he believe that it would convince him that his devotion to Ashe was borne solely of knightly orders. But perhaps it would offer the watchman some insight as to why he had no choice but to go after her.


	42. Night

_I'm sorry I'm so late again. It has been a very stressful week for me. But I will endeavour to be on time for Sunday's update. I swear it._

_Well, it's not as long as I wanted, and it took a completely different direction than what I intended, but I don't think it's too bad. And it's young Ashe – I can't really go wrong with that, can I?_

* * *

**Night**

**697 OV, 7 months after Ashe's 10th birthday**

The low rumble from beyond her curtains told Ashe that her bodyguard had finally fallen asleep. It must have been late – ever since the monster incident a full half year prior, Vossler had been increasingly determined to fight his exhaustion and remain awake until well past midnight. And yet the young princess could not sleep at all.

Maybe a drink of water would help. She didn't understand why, but Ashe had often seen grown-ups go get a glass of water when they couldn't sleep. She'd have to be careful though; she didn't want to wake Vossler, or, gods forbid, her father. King Raminas slept only one room away, and he wouldn't take kindly to the idea of his daughter roaming around the palace at night.

Her bare foot touched the marble floor, and she shivered at the coolness of the stone, only to freeze as she heard Vossler shift in his chair. For a brief moment, she considered just going back to bed, but reasoned that to do so would be rather pointless. She had come this far, and since she couldn't sleep anyway... Still, Ashe sat there for a good few minutes, watching her guard intently for any sign of conscious. Only when she was sure the coast was clear did she proceed.

Scurrying silently across the room, Ashe was thankful that the door had been well oiled. Even the slightest creak would likely have woken the man dozing no more than a foot away from her. Now she needed only to conquer the looming darkness of the corridor. The tall shadows and darkened doorways stirred in her a primal fear of the unknown, but Ashe wasn't going to let this bother her. She had come this far. Taking a deep breath, the princess stepped forward, disappearing into the darkness.

Only when she was out of earshot did Vossler rouse himself from his seat, leaving his heavy boots behind as he followed her down the corridor. It had not been difficult to fool the young girl into thinking he slept – he had noticed that she was restless some hours back, and thought it likely that she would do something like this. Vossler was content to let her have her fun, if only to avoid having to bear her temporary hatred should he be forced to reprimand her.

But he'd be damned if he was going to let her roam around at night on her lonesome. Suppose the King should learn of his daughter's wanderings. Vossler would be demoted back down to sergeant within the hour. Aside from the considerable shame of such an occurrence, and the loss of the King's confidence besides, Vossler had to admit, he would start to miss the job he'd held for just over a year and a half.

So it was that he stalked her down the gloomy length of the main corridor, noiselessly wincing alongside his young charge at every small sound. The darkness seemed to amplify the myriad little noises made by the inhabitants of each of the rooms running the length of the passage far beyond their actual volume. The sound of a man turning in his bed became the sound of a hand reaching up to turn the door knob. Their own pounding hearts became booming footfalls approaching the doorway. Silently, Vossler prayed that Ashe would soon tire of her midnight games, whatever they were.

As if on cue, the princess suddenly turned, speeding back down the corridor in the direction of her chambers. Her bare feet moved silently over the marble, and in her haste neglected to notice the bulky outline of Vossler pressed against one of the walls. The faint glow of light slowly rounding the corner made it clear what had alerted Ashe, illuminating the figure of a dishevelled and half-asleep Basch. He had been guarding the treasury, if Vossler remembered correctly.

"I take it you saw her?"

"Aye. You'd best be getting back – she'll notice your absence soon enough."

The two men exchanged a smile, before returning to their respective posts. Upon Vossler's return, he found Ashe sitting up in her bed, her eyes accusing.

"Where'd you go?"

Thinking on his feet, Vossler replied. "Simply to get a glass of water."


	43. Scars

_Thanks for reviewing, bluebearsg! I really appreciate it. I'm sorry I missed Monday's update by the way – I have had a rather tumultuous week, what with illness, exams and a broken laptop with no internet or software. But I'm back (even though I'm late), and that's the important thing, right?_

_I quite like this one myself, at least when it gets into it a bit. As in when it actually becomes about the title, that is. But it's just too short if that's all I include, so the filler intro's kind of necessary..._

* * *

**Scars**

**706 OV, 10 days after Ashe's kidnapping**

"It should not be more than a day's travel to the Tomb now, if this map is not mistaken."

Vossler squatted on a dune, slightly apart from the rest of the party as always. He pored over an archaic map Vaan had found in an urn some miles back, trying to make sense of the scroll. With a sigh, he rolled it back up, and rose. They had crossed such a vast distance, undergone so much to get here, and yet... The time seemed to have gone so quickly.

How was it that he had not yet managed to find the words to tell Ashe of his plans for Dalmasca? It was not as if he had not had the chance. Indeed, she had asked what it was that he had accomplished within minutes of his return to her. But the words had died in his throat. And then the Urutan came.

"Vossler!"

Penelo's voice brought Vossler's attention back to the present. He turned to face the source of the sound, shielding his eyes from the glare of the desert sun as he did so. Her voice was harsher than usual, no doubt affected by the constant invasion of sand and dust that clawed at their throats.

"We're setting up camp!"

So early? The midday sun still beat down upon the party's prone bodies, shining through the thick haze of yellow clouds. Even the Urutan-Yensa seemed to be hiding from the heat. Before Vossler could query this decision, Penelo called again.

"Fran says there's a bad sandstorm coming!"

That was more than enough to encourage Vossler to make his way down the slope and join his comrades' efforts to erect the Bhujerba-bought tents. He was uncomfortable enough with the sweat and the constant chafing of his armour, and had no desire to experience the buffeting of the desert winds. Besides which, this temporary delay of their journey would give him another 24 hours in which to enjoy Ashe's company. She would not forgive him for what he had done.

The group worked in silence, their faces set in determined opposition to the winds that steadily increased in vigour as time went by. It was only when the last of the shelters was completed and everyone had retired to their respective accommodation that Ashe noticed the tell-tale smear of red on the dull plate of Vossler's armour.

"It's nothing," he replied, in answer to her query. "Most likely an old wound re-opened."

Vossler had not even noticed the pain in his right shoulder blade until Ashe pointed out that he was bleeding. Maybe he had simply become accustomed to it, as he had become used to the constant discomfort of the sand lodged in the crevices of his plate.

"Nonsense. You always tell me to come to you when I'm injured – I would expect you to do the same. Now, let me have a look at it."

Unable to argue with her, Vossler obliged, unlacing his chest-plate and turning his back to Ashe. He heard her hiss as she inspected the wound, each experimental prod sending a mild shock of pain through his flesh. When she finally offered her diagnosis, she wasn't optimistic.

"There's a fragment of an Urutan arrowhead lodged in there. I'm going to have to cut it out before I heal the wound, or the skin will fuse around it. Either way, it's going to scar."

"Do what you must."

Scars were nothing new to Vossler. Over the past two years, he had borne many a blade meant for Ashe. Each strike had left a mark on his body, be the thin white lines that criss-crossed his back or the deeper, uglier wounds that marred his shoulders and chest. Each scar was a reminder of what he'd gone through for her.

Ashe dug a dagger into Vossler's wound, eliciting a low grunt of pain as she tried to dislodge the arrowhead. His body tensed as the piece of serrated metal finally came free, and Ashe hurriedly muttered a Cure spell over the tear in his flesh, binding the edges of the wound together. All that remained of the injury was a thick line of paler skin.

Only when she had cleaned the blood from the site and sat back to admire her handiwork did Ashe notice the web of older scars running in every direction across Vossler's body. Most of those scars were meant for her, this she knew.

"Vossler, I..."

He turned to face her. "As long as you remain unscathed, I bear them gladly."


	44. Daybreak

_Thanks to TitleContreven and Lt. Zander for reviewing/favouriting – I really appreciate it! Oh, and just a little heads-up for the future: Sunday updates are changing to Monday updates. I just don't have the time on Sundays any more. This one's a little late, due to exams, but I should be back on schedule soon._

_Well, I certainly enjoyed writing this one. I hope you enjoy reading it!_

* * *

**Daybreak**

**706 OV, 2 days after arriving at Raithwall's Tomb**

The pinkish morning sun peeked out from over the eastern cliffs of the valley, flooding the once dark desert with light. It was yet early, and the sun yet pale, but the sudden light was enough to sear Vossler's vision, causing him to raise a hand to shield against the glare.

From his perch atop the great staircase leading up to the Tomb of Raithwall, Vossler could almost hear the whirring of the glossairs of the Imperial Eighth Fleet. It would not be much longer now until they came. The exact method by which the Imperial skystones seemed to work in jagd eluded him, but there was no denying that the Fleet's arrival was on the horizon.

It was too late. There was no time left to tell her, or to call off the bargain he'd struck with Ghis. Not that it mattered. There was no other way out of this profitless struggle, save death itself. Not that Ashe would see it that way.

With one last look at the beautiful landscape, soon to be marred by hundreds of Imperial vessels, Vossler rose and turned to return to the camp, erected just within the tomb's walls. There had been little point in him keeping watch tonight – the Valley of the Dead was completely devoid of life, and the only fiends that stalked the Hall of the Destroyer were long since turned to dust. Still, he had insisted. He found the cool night air oft helped clear his mind, though on this occasion it seemed to have been of little use.

The camp was quiet upon his return via waystone, the only sound being the dull thud of his boots on the stone floor. Not a soul stirred in the tents: all were sleeping, blissfully unaware of what the day would bring. Vossler did his best to maintain this fragile peace; so valuable a thing, given the times.

Like her fellows in the other tents, Ashe remained sleeping as Vossler slipped through the entrance to the shelter. She clutched the Dawn Shard to her breast, her fingers wrapped tightly around its detailed surface. At first glance, she would appear to be resting peacefully, but the force with which she held her trinket was enough to bely her troubles.

All this, for a stone. What power could it truly hold? Ghis had called it 'deifacted nethicite', but the term meant nothing to Vossler. As far as he knew, the Empire wanted it and Dalmasca didn't need it, and so acted as an invaluable bargaining chip for sovereignty. Only now did he begin to suspect that the nethicite held a greater power than he'd been led to believe.

As he settled himself on his bedroll, near frozen from the perpetually cool air in the tomb, Ashe stirred. Her grip on the Dawn Shard slackened, and she squinted through the gloom in an attempt to see the intruder. She blinked in recognition as Vossler's face came into focus, turning to face him.

"Vossler... Has morning come already?"

"The sun rises, but we have a few hours yet."

A small half-smile crossed her features as Ashe glanced down at the stone in her hands.

"I think... I think it will be easier from now on. We are close. So close..."

She returned her gaze to Vossler, shuffling closer to him. She touches him, and he burns with guilt. _Tell her, _a voice in his head screams, _for the gods' sakes, tell her. There's still time, you can still run... _

But the words choke him, and he can say nothing. He can only lie there as her small frame presses into him, seeking warmth. Ashe still grasps the Dawn Shard, its hard surface and rough edges digging into Vossler's flesh. It is as a wedge between them, the sole thing preventing their torsos from touching. He can bear it no more.

"Ashe..."

But she is already asleep. There is nothing he can do, save put his arm around her and pray for some miraculous release from this nightmare of his own making.


	45. Power

_I must apologise for the lack of a Thursday update. I had no internet access for a time whilst trying to configure Windows 7 on my laptop. A decision I now regret, but what's done is done, eh?_

_Hmm... I'm torn on this one. There's some bits I really like, and bits that I just couldn't think of the right words for. I'm sure it's not too bad, though. I hope._

* * *

**Power**

**706 OV, 2 days after the events aboard the _SHIVA_**

The house at the southern end of the Muthru Bazaar was small and cramped, but it had served the party's purposes well enough. Balthier had suggested that they lay low for a while after what had happened over the Sandsea: wise counsel from one who had clearly been in many a similar situation before, if not quite on the same scale.

Though the hired property provided suitable shelter from the storm when news of the catastrophic 'accident' spread like wildfire around the Royal City, the two-room building offered little in the means of privacy. Only now - when the orphans had headed out to buy supplies, the sky pirates had gone in search of food and Basch had apologised profusely for abandoning her to pick up weapons - had Ashe a moment of peace.

The clamour of close living blissfully absent, the princess's attention turned to the stone. This ancient relic held power enough to destroy the entire Empire, and she held it in her hands. She had dreamed of this day for two whole years. She had the strength and the means to claim her long-deserved revenge. And yet she felt no better for it.

Ashe had tried not to think on the circumstances by which the Dawn Shard had remained in her possession. She had tried to avoid thoughts of the death and destruction she had left in her wake. An entire Imperial Fleet had gone down, thousands of lives had been lost. But she told herself that they were Empire and little more. Soldier or civilian, Archadia was the enemy. They were the evil ones, oppressing country after country, with no care for those under their jurisdiction.

She tried to forget the polite young man in the Bhujerban Technick shop, patiently awaiting the arrival of his brother aboard the _SHIVA_. She tried to forget the smiling Imperial who had so readily played with the children of the streets before boarding the _LEVIATHAN_ at the aerodrome.

She tried to forget the pleading eyes of her former bodyguard as she turned and fled the burning airship.

Ashe closed her fist over the dark surface of the nethicite. It didn't matter who they were. They were Empire. He was as good as Empire. And the Empire were to be hated. They deserved no mercy for what they had done to both her and her country. She would like nothing more than to see Archadia fall from grace, crushed and defeated as Dalmasca was. As Nabradia was.

Looking again at the Dawn Shard, Ashe caught a glimpse of herself reflected in the dull stone. Had her mind been less clouded with rage, she may have been sickened by the ease with which she condemned any and all with Imperial affiliation to utter obliteration. She had seen the devastation the nethicite was capable of, yet still had no qualms about its use.

Ashe was not naturally given to violence. There had been a time when she would never have wished such a fate upon any of Ivalice. Back then, there would have been nothing and no one that she would have deemed worthy of such destruction. But over the years, as her hatred had grown, she had deluded herself to the point where she was living in a world of black and white, where she and her companions were the forces of good and the Empire the forces of evil. There was no room for shades of grey. Or so she had thought.

Ashe longed to exact her revenge, so long overdue. She had the power and the strength necessary for the task. And yet, for all her fury, all the pent-up rage accumulated since Dalmasca's fall, she felt no immediate desire to go out and do so.

The burden of power was a heavy one to bear. So had her father often said, increasingly so during the latter days of the war. She had never paid much heed to his words back then. Only now did she see the truth of them.


	46. Ghost

_I'm sorry I didn't get the Thursday update done. I've had a very busy week full of stress. That said, I shall try again this Thursday, though I've begun to realise that I may have to reduce my update days to reflect the amount of free time I have, and only update on Mondays._

_Right, I've got a plan for this now. My personal challenge is to make this 'fic 100 chapters long (I'm almost halfway!). I have a list of chapter prompts, from which I'll pick a title at random every time I write. However, I still need 17 more to make the 100 – please, if you have an idea or a request, leave me a one-word prompt in a review!_

* * *

**Ghost**

**706 OV, 1 day after arriving at Raithwall's Tomb**

All the miles they had walked, trudging through the endless sands of the Sandsea. All the battles they had won, be it against Urutan tribesman or Esper of legend. All the scars they had borne along the way, both physical and mental. All of it had been for this.

The Dawn Shard rested in its cradle, just out of reach of Ashe's now-calloused hands. She has gone through so much to get here. She will not hesitate now. She barely notices the anxious gazes of her companions, each as battered and worn down as she, as she ascends the last step and raises her arm.

It is then she sees him. He, who she thought was lost to her forever.

"Rasler..."

Her voice is as the wind over the desert. So faint that the men and women standing behind do not hear it. But he seems to. He smiles at her, walking forward so casually that his death may as well have been nothing more than a terrible nightmare. He passes her, descending the stairs and walking away.

No. She will not lose him again. Forgetting for a moment that Rasler is dead, and the man before her naught but a vision, Ashe makes a desperate grab for his arm. Her hand passes through with no resistance, and her arm drops limply to her side, defeated. Rasler's ghost does not even acknowledge her.

Ashe stares after the spectre, momentarily shattered. Fate was cruel indeed, to bring him back only to tear him away once again. She feels her eyes begin to burn with tears as Rasler fades into the darkness, but she forces them down. She has not cried for two years, not since... Not since his funeral.

She copes with this the only way she knows how. Bringing her hand to her chest, Ashe fingers his wedding ring, closing her eyes so that her companions do not see her struggle.

"You will be avenged."

Her voice trembles, tinged with equal amounts of anger and sorrow. This is how she deals with her pain – she directs it at those who she believes to have wronged her. This is the only way she has been able to hold herself together all these years. It has never failed her.

When the moment has passed, and she regains control of her emotions once more, she opens her eyes, looking out over the party. Not one of them, not even Vaan, is tactless enough to say anything. The Dawn Shard glistens in her hand; she does not remember picking it up.

Ashe looks on it in mild bemusement, as if trying to see some truth in its dappled surface. The stone shimmers as it catches the light, and she thinks she sees Rasler's face in its depths. It is his gift, she is sure of it: he has given her to means to avenge him. And she will avenge him. She holds the stone close to her breast, trying to gain some small comfort from its cool touch.

Below her, her companions look on, their weary gazes trying to make some sense of what they see. None, save Vaan, saw the prince's shadow. Each have their own theories as to what might be running through the troubled princess's mind. But Vossler's is by far the closest.

He recognises the distant expression on her face, the same empty sorrow that had consumed her features when she received the news of her husband's fall in battle. He notices the small quiver in her stance, even now, as she fights to keep her feelings in check – the exact same quiver she hid so well on the day of Rasler's memorial. He begins to suspect what she has seen, but dismisses it as mere delusion.

All this only strengthens Vossler's resolve to bring an end to the fighting. Through whatever means necessary. If this – visions of dead princes and inner torment - was the extent of the toll the struggle was having on Ashe, he would rather make a truce with the Empire than force her to fight much longer.


	47. Aftermath

_So, Monday updates it is. However, I may be able to update mid-week this week, so keep an eye out – even if you're not reviewing, I'm sure people are still reading!_

_I always thought that Ashe (or the rest of the party, for that matter) didn't really seem bothered by the sinking of the Eighth Fleet, when really they should have. If the Fleet was as big as we're led to believe, that's thousands of lives lost in that explosion, and they weren't all evil. But the party just escapes (which is understandable), and then it's just "hey look, the Dawn Shard – aren't we lucky?". Just seems odd to me. Anyway, I kinda like this one, even if it is rather short._

* * *

**Aftermath**

**706 OV, 2 minutes after Vossler's defeat**

"Ashe, let's go!"

Balthier's voice rings clear, cutting Ashe's moment of reflection short. She turns and runs back down the metal catwalk. Only a few scant moments ago, on this same catwalk, she had been forced to accept that the one person she trusted most had betrayed her. But Ashe had pushed all such thoughts from her mind. The man who knelt behind her was not the Vossler she had known – he had died the moment she stepped aboard the _LEVIATHAN _for the second time in as many weeks.

She could not – _would _not – think on him. The only thing she need think about was escaping this soon-to-be-sinking airship. And for now, that was enough. Ashe was faintly aware of Basch clattering up the walkway behind her, and knew that it was over. She cared not. He had betrayed her and Dalmasca both, and Dalmasca was not forgiving of traitors.

Still, she could not help but look back as the stolen Air Cutter sped away from what remained of the Eighth Fleet. From the safety of the small craft, Ashe and the rest of the party watched as the Mist stored within the Dawn Shard finally burst free, brilliant flashes of orange lighting up the sky as glossairs jammed, engines burned and cruiser and dreadnought alike spun out of control.

There was no way anyone could have survived such a blaze. Even at such a distance, Ashe could feel the heat of the explosions, of the Mist. She could only imagine what the sensitive viera beside was being forced to endure. She refused to imagine what the people aboard the numerous airships of the Fleet were going through.

As the streaks of light and flame faded, Ashe espied the _SHIVA_ spewing black smoke as it began its inevitable descent to earth. A cruel twist of fate, that – the one ship she would have wanted to see vaporised, to be over and done with, seemingly intent on dragging out its passenger's (well-deserved) demise for as long as possible. Even in its death throes, the Imperial Eighth Fleet seems to be taunting her.

Ashe clenched her fists and looked away, forcing herself to focus on the blue sky ahead. Her moment of manufacted peace does not last long, however, as Penelo's voice sounds loud and clear in her ear.

"What's that?"

Of all of them, Ashe would have expected Penelo to be at least mildly troubled by the events unfolding in their wake. But it does not seem so: the street dancer's voice is free of the guilt and horror that was present aboard the _LEVIATHAN. _Curious indeed, that the death of one faceless Imperial should trouble her so, but the deaths of thousands of similar soldiers, and a man she had considered a friend among them, do not seem to affect her in the slightest.

Regardless, Ashe's gaze follows Penelo's, and she sees the glistening silver sphere that has captured the young girl's attention. Squinting a little to try and see through the swirling residue of the Mist, she thinks she sees something.

"I think its the Dawn Shard!"

"Then what are we waiting for?"

The Air Cutter shakes as Balthier steers it back into the eye of the Mist storm, and Ashe is glad of the temporary distraction as the vehicle passes by the _SHIVA_. She does not even notice the light cruiser begin to fall faster, nose-diving down towards the merciless waves of the Nam-Yensa Sandsea. Her mind is fully focused on the Dawn Shard, and the notion that the power she has just witnessed will soon be in her grasp.

Soon, the Empire would pay. For _all _it had taken from her.


	48. Ruse

_OK, so that mid-week update didn't happen. I'm sorry about that, but my holidays were busier than I thought. Still, I will make sure that I always update on Mondays, so don't lose faith in me just yet!_

_I think I lost the plot towards the end for this one, but hopefully it's not too bad. I only need 8 more chapter prompts to make the 100 though, so if you want to put forward an idea best be doing it soon!_

* * *

**Ruse**

**706 OV, 1 week after the assault on the palace**

"Take them away."

"My Lord!"

"Lady Ashe is to be quartered separately."

Beneath his Judge's guise, Vossler swore under his breath. The Marquis's ploy had been the only plausible way for him to get aboard the _LEVIATHAN_, but his plan had hinged on him being the one to lead Ashe to her prison. There he would eliminate the Imperial guards about her cell, and escape via Air Cutter before anyone noticed that something was amiss. But the arrival of Basch and his entourage of criminals had wrecked that.

The two days he'd spent gathering information on the ship's layout and security systems, the lengths he'd gone to in order to obtain a map, the nights spent praying that the other Judges he berthed with didn't recognise him as being of Dalmascan birth... All his efforts had gone to waste, and Vossler could only stand and watch as he was ordered away from Ashe once again.

In retrospect, it may have been wiser to have gone with his original plan, and infiltrate the dreadnought whilst it was docked in Bhujerba – Judge Ghis would have been occupied inspecting the mines, and a good percentage of the Imperial forces would have been on the streets maintaining road blocks. It would have been the perfect opportunity to spirit Ashe away, and would have saved any further involvement with the King-Slayer.

But what was it that the old man in Lowtown had always said? Plans freshly hatched have a habit of tumbling from the nest. His former plan was reckless, he knew this. He had had no intelligence on how many men the _LEVIATHAN_ held, and how many remained within. Ghis was no fool: it seemed unlikely that he would leave Ashe unguarded. At best it would be a bloodbath, at worst both he and the woman he was trying to save would perish.

No, Ondore's plan was the only way. Still, Vossler couldn't help but feel something of a failure as he and Ashe separated again. She was headed to the brig, he to gods knew where. Another ship in the fleet, most likely. Whatever the risk, he couldn't allow that to happen. He was pondering his options as he heard a resounding clatter of Imperial plate making contact with the metallic floor. Apparently, Ghis's prisoners had made the decision for him.

Another soldier fell to the floor, knocked unconscious by a swift kick from the viera. The man closest to Vossler turned to run back to the control room, but the Dalmascan knight was too quick, choking the man's cry for help as his hand closed around his throat. Vossler tossed the now limp body aside, removing his helm and revealing his identity before the spear-wielding sky pirate could turn his weapon on him.

The brown-haired man moved to attack regardless, but Basch, wrists still bound, stayed his overly eager hand.

"The Marquis has been busy."

"Not readily did I beg his aid. Listen, it's been a full two years. I alone have kept Her Majesty hidden. I doubted friend and foe alike. I could trust nobody."

"You did your duty. And mine for me."

"I'm getting her out – I need your help."

There was no longer any hope of freeing Ashe quietly, now that his identity had been compromised. Vossler was not one to beg aid, be it from an old comrade or a stranger, but this was a special case. The Empire held proof of Ashe's heritage now, and no longer needed her – if she caused them trouble (which she was wont to do), they could kill her in the blink of an eye. He had to get her out now, and for that he needed manpower.

"Of course."

It was a strange reunion of old friends, this. Vossler had no real reason to trust Basch. Indeed, Ashe was vehemently opposed to any further involvement with the man who had allegedly murdered her father. Vossler too would have preferred to have little to do with the supposed traitor, but in this case he had no choice. The bond made was one of necessity, and one made for Ashe.


	49. Deception

_I really need to start managing my time better, or even this weekly update will stop happening soon... But I'm not about to let it beat me._

_Well, I'm quite sure that this wasn't what I had initially planned for this prompt when I wrote it down. All I remember was that it was about Ondore saying that Ashe had committed suicide. Regardless, this chapter was surprisingly easy to write – hope you enjoy reading it!_

* * *

**Deception**

**704 OV, 1 week after the death of King Raminas**

Bhujerba had always been a beautiful place. The great magicite spires of the Marquis's estate had inspired many a fine artist, and tourists came from the farthest reaches of Ivalice to see the natural beauty of Dorstonis. In her youth, Ashe had been among them – though carried by private vessel rather than the East Ivalice tour buses, she too had been awestruck by the purvama's great waterfalls, intrigued by the wyrm bones found in the mines... The sky continent had always been a diverse and fascinating place to spend a summer.

But most of all, Bhujerba had been safe. Famously neutral, the sky city took no part in the never-ending conflict between Archadia and Rozarria, nor had it any need to. Unlike Dalmasca, a piece of land so desirable that the late King had feared for his daughter's life eight long years before conflict truly began, the purvama Dorstonis drifted throughout the year, never staying in one place for long. So long had it been since the state saw war, that the military Sainikah no longer trained for it.

Bhujerba was the one place where Ashe had always thought she would be free from harm. But the sound of army-issue boots on the hardwood floor outside her chambers told her otherwise.

She knew what he would say before he had even opened the door.

"Ashe, we must flee this place."

"My uncle?"

Vossler's eyes shot to the floor for a moment. In the space of a few weeks, she had lost husband, father and now, it seemed, uncle too. And he had always been the bearer of the news. He had dealt with death many a time – delivered notifications of notable losses to families, watched many a mother's heart break as she was informed of her son's untimely demise – but nothing could have prepared him for the burden he now bore.

"It would appear he is not as neutral as he once was. He begs the people of Dalmasca to lay down their arms and accept the Imperial occupation, and has announced that you have taken your own life."

"Then you think..."

"That he is like to turn traitor, as Captain Ronsenburg before him? I believe he already has. If he has told the people that you are dead, then there is every chance..."

His sentence trailed off as Ashe stood, gathering her skirts and making a fine attempt to keep her composure. There was a slight quiver in her stance, though whether this was from fear for her life or disbelief at her uncle's betrayal, Vossler could not know.

"Then we leave at once."

She paused a moment, eyes closed as if considering her options, before speaking again.

"Is there anywhere that remains safe to us?"

"I have secured lodgings in the Rabanastran Lowtown, and a pilot of questionable ethics has agreed to fly us to the South Gate entrance discreetly and under cover of darkness. Other than that, nowhere remains open to us. We are as fugitives now, and must travel accordingly."

Ashe, eyes still closed, is moved to a faint nod.

"Then so be it."

She speaks in measured tones, forcing herself to keep her emotions in check as she takes Vossler's proffered arm. Allowing herself to be led to the shipyards, where their pilot awaits, she can think only of what foul corruption the Empire must be spreading, to turn such good men as Basch and Ondore against her. She can only pray that Vossler does become affected.

As the small airship pulled away from the sky island, Ashe caught one last glimpse of the great glittering waterfalls of Dorstonis. Strange, how they no longer captivated her as they did a scant few months ago.


	50. Moon

_Thanks to bluebearsg and TitleContreven for reviewing – it may have been some time, but that just makes receiving a review all the better. _

_I've made it to 50 chapters now... But I'm afraid it may be staying like that for a while. I'm going to have to take a hiatus from this for some time – my exams are coming up, and the pressure on me is greater by the day. Not to mention the ever-growing list of other obligations that threatens to consume me completely. I didn't have that much free time as it was,and things have just gotten worse. I'm sorry about this, I really am, but I don't think there's going to be regular updates until about the end of June. There may be the odd new chapter if I get time, but other that... Anyway, I'm sorry. I just hope this chapter is a decent enough temporary endpoint._

* * *

**Moon**

**706 OV, 9 days after Ashe's kidnapping**

It was night in the camp, and all was still. Even the Urutan in the distance seemed to have stopped their chattering, retiring to their hidden settlements much as most of Ashe's party now hid under their cloth coverings. But she herself remained awake, resting on a rocky outcropping overlooking the murky sand-waters.

There was a full moon tonight. Ashe had always admired the beauty of the huge celestial body, ever since she was young. There was something about the way the silver disc of the night sky cast its light, seeming to give her surroundings a faint glow. It was the one thing that remained beautiful to her, long after all else had ceased to

Merely the sight of the moon brought memories flooding back. In the past, she had spent many an evening on her balcony or atop the tower, gazing into its depths.

Sometimes it had been her father with her, particularly when she was very small. He would tell her tales, wonderful tales, of the moon goddess, Artemis, who, as a mortal, was both fair maiden and skilful huntress. So revered had she been by her people, the gods saw fit to revive her upon her untimely end at the hands of a jealous king, immortalising her soul as a scion of light. That was the basics of it, anyway – small details seemed to change upon each telling, and, though the story remained the same in essence, the young Ashe would listen attentively to each re-telling as though it were an entirely new narrative.

At other times, she would be surrounded by the children of the noble families of Dalmasca. Her mother had thought it proper that she integrate herself with them from a young age, though Ashe had oft-times resented the forced interaction. One boy, by the name of Cespar Cousland, took great delight in weaving fanciful 'legends' of monsters to scare her. It was he who had told her the tale of the Werewolves of Giza: men turned into beasts by the carrion flesh of wolves, who came hunting in the city every time the full moon rose. According to him, it was said that the face of the wolf could be seen in the full moon, if one looked hard enough, but to do so marked you out as the Werewolf's next target. Ashe had refused to look at the moon for months.

Later in her life, Ashe had most often found herself in the company of Vossler as she watched the night sky. He had managed to surprise her constantly with his knowledge of Dalmascan lore, and, upon being queried, would only mention that his mother had insisted he study. He had spoke little after such an admittance, leading Ashe to suspect that perhaps his mother had not wished him to become a soldier. She had never asked him about it again, out of respect for his privacy, but she had been curious about his family and heritage ever since.

It had not been so long ago that Ashe gazed upon such a moon with her husband. Rasler had enjoyed the moonlight almost as much as she did, and would spend many a night with her atop the tower. During the day, his mind had always been filled with royal duties, or aiding her father with the war campaign. It was only on these moonlit nights that Ashe enjoyed the company of the real Rasler, and those nights were some of the happiest memories she could recall.

Though still beautiful, now the moon did little but remind her of happier times, serving only to make her current situation seem even more dismal. Here she was, surrounded by sand, filth, and travelling company that was largely made up of strangers and criminals; just about as far removed from her upbringing in the palace as possible.

It took the sound of footsteps behind her to snap her out of her thoughts. Heavy footfalls, so familiar she would have recognised them anywhere.

"A beautiful moon tonight, no? It has been some time since I've seen one so bright."

Vossler settled himself beside Ashe. He had risen to take her place as the night watch, but was content to let her stay, if she wished it.

"It is beautiful, isn't it? It is a shame that Lowtown offers so little opportunity to see the sky."

"You know what they say about when the moon shines bright?"

Ashe almost smiles as the familiar words cross her lips.

"The moon goddess Artemis walks tonight."


End file.
